August, October
by JudasFm
Summary: COMPLETED! The team's latest case brings back unpleasant memories for Face. Stressed and unwilling to share these with his increasingly frustrated team mates, Face's inner turmoil soon brings about a shattering change for the A-Team. Please R&R!
1. Breakfast Music

**The A-Team belongs to me. And if you believe that, I have some beachfront property in Atlantis you might be interested in. Call me ;)**

**Seriously though folks, I don't own the A-Team and all songs mentioned in this chapter and future chapters are copyright their respective artists.**

**This is my first attempt at writing an A-Team fanfic, so I hope you enjoy it :) To all those who may be reading my other stories, don't worry; I haven't abandoned them. I just want to take a short break is all.**

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"_Autumn and Friday the winds blew..._"

"_July, September, I knew-oo you..._"

"_Now as I sit on that sa-a-and hill..._"

"_I sing a song to the sea._"

"_August, October, mid-April, November, May. Beckoning hands made you fly-y-y; I cry, it's curtains today_."

"Shut up, fools, before I come back there an' you really start cryin'!"

It's doubtful whether Robin Gibb would have approved of this editorial to his song, but it had the desired effect; the two singers were silenced. For about three seconds.

"You don't like the Bee Gees, big guy?"

"No!"

"Okay." Murdock pondered this for a moment, then said, "So…what d'you wanna hear?"

"Only sound I wanna hear's the sound of _silence_, fool!"

"_Hello darkness, my old friend..._"

It was BA's own fault, really, Hannibal mused as he sucked on his cigar. BA had refused to put the radio on, so Murdock had started belting out a tune and Face, after a lot of prodding and cajoling from the captain and eventually an order from an amused Hannibal, had joined in. After hearing their joint rendition of _Hey Jude _(during which the final _na-na-na-naa_s went on for three full minutes) BA had banned the rendition of any Beatles song in his van from now until the day they died…which, he'd added, might be sooner than some fools thought.

That had been when the pair started on the Bee Gees, after a brief performance of _Seasons in the Sun_ that had ended after the first verse when neither of them could agree on the lyrics. Now the two were taking it in turns to sing each line and harmonising on the chorus. They weren't bad either, Hannibal thought, smirking at BA's expression.

"You were the one who refused to switch the radio on," he pointed out.

"That's 'cause this crazy fool claims he's allergic to radio waves! Says they make his nose turn green!"

"Really, BA—" Murdock was using his Sane Voice now, which usually only happened just before he came out with something really outlandish— "now whoever heard of a man's nose being turned green by radio waves?" He paused for a fraction of a second, just long enough for the other three to see it coming, then added, "It's radio _stations_. Y'know, some of 'em play subliminal messages, and the wax melts and dribbles out and then the ear mice get in and nibble away at the eardrums. Drives a man _craaazy_."

"Shut up, fool! You already crazy!"

"Now, BA," Face added in eminently reasonable tones, "be fair. The kinda music you listen to, Murdock's concern about wax dribbling out of ears – while pretty disgusting – isn't too far-fetched."

BA scowled around at him, but Face had learned his lesson very early on about sitting within arm's reach of the sergeant and so simply returned his glare with an innocent expression that didn't fool anyone for a minute. Next to him, Murdock informed the van that his mother was a tailor and had sewed his new blue jeans, and his father was a gambling man down in New Orleans.

Hannibal didn't blame them for being jubilant. They'd just finished a particularly difficult job, collected the two hundred thousand dollars and there had been no sign of Decker throughout. The colonel was a little disappointed about that – whatever his failings, Decker was fun to play with – but he was also wise enough to keep this disappointment to himself. The rest of the A-Team didn't seem to share his love of Decker dodging and Hannibal wasn't about to spoil the mood.

"_Now the only thing a gambler needs is a suitcase and a trunk—_" Murdock broke off his one-man concert and looked at Face. "Hey Faceman, how come you don't have a trunk?"

Face, who had a playful side when it suited him, grinned. "Well, there was one I kinda liked, but it was still attached to the elephant at the time."

Which, of course, started Murdock off on a different track.

"_Nellie the Elephant packed her trunk and said goodbye to the circus—_"

"Hannibal, _say _somethin'! These fools is drivin' me crazy!"

"Sure, BA." Chewing on his cigar, Hannibal looked round at Face and Murdock. "Either of you guys know _Massachusetts_?"

An oncoming car hit its brakes and hooted furiously at them as BA swerved across the flow of traffic into a truck stop, complete with a dirty looking diner and neon sign that was still flickering despite it being ten thirty am. Either not noticing – or more likely blatantly ignoring – the fact that he was now blocking three cars in and one of them had just started its engine, the sergeant twisted around to fix Hannibal with a glare that promised death sometime in the next millisecond or two.

"That's it! Hannibal, I ain't goin' _nowhere_ with that racket!"

"Okay, BA, okay. Calm down." Hannibal glanced at Face. "Face, go get us some breakfast. And take Murdock with you."

Face groaned. "_Hannibal_..."

"I know, I know." The colonel held up a hand, while Murdock hopped out of his seat and started to play-wrestle Billy in the background. "But he could do with the fresh air, BA could do with a break from Murdock, _I_ could do with a break from BA and we _all_ could do with something to eat."

Face knew he'd lost – although the A-Team didn't bother much about formalities or pulling rank, Hannibal's orders were never to be questioned without a much better reason than _I don't wanna_ – but he couldn't help appealing to his leader's better judgment.

"Hannibal, c'mon. You know what happens when I take Murdock on a scam. You remember that job we took on, with the crooked race syndicate? You remember when you sent me to scam a horse from a nearby farm, and told me to take Murdock with me? You remember what Murdock did to _that_ scam?"

Murdock sat up indignantly. "Hey! Now I had _no idea_ that chicken was gonna do that!"

"I had to pay for a new horse trailer." Face spoke slowly and clearly, as though he thought it would make a difference. "_And_ repair the stable door! And then, to top it all off, _Decker_ showed up and since he'd blocked the only way out and I was unarmed, I had to get outta there on horseback!"

Hannibal, who had been grinning broadly through this recital, shook his head. "Boy, I sure wish I could've seen his face when you rode past him and off into the sunset, Face."

Face gave him a look that spoke of unimaginable suffering nobly borne in the cause of friendship. It was a look Hannibal had seen many times, usually when he ordered his lieutenant to take point or refused to lend him some money.

In this case, Face had a more genuine reason for the expression; it had been a fast, very bumpy escape. The horse he'd picked hadn't been fast enough to outrun the MPs' cars (and if he ever found a horse that was, Face thought, he could retire that same year) but it had had one valuable advantage: namely that it could jump fences while galloping. The downside to this, of course, was that Face's rear end had suffered terribly from being bounced up and down on (so had the horse's, for that matter) and it had been several days before the lieutenant had been able to sit down in comfort.

"_Hannibal_..." he began.

"Anyway, I'm not sending you to scam anything." Hannibal flicked ash into the ashtray, ignoring BA's disapproving growl, and grinned at Face. "We just made two hundred grand, Face; I think we can afford breakfast."

Face dropped his head into his hands with a theatrical groan, then lifted it again to look at Murdock, who was now rubbing Billy's belly.

"Alright, fine. C'mon Murdock, let's go. Leave Billy behind; they don't allow dogs in these places."

It wasn't that he _disliked_ Murdock, he thought as he trudged towards the greasy looking diner. In fact, he was closer to Murdock than the other two, being willing to humour and play along with the pilot's fantasies. He and Murdock had formed a close friendship in 'Nam, a rare thing for Face who, although he liked people in general_, _shied away from becoming too attached to them. Despite Murdock's craziness - or maybe because of it - Face thought there was something solid about the pilot. Even if BA and Hannibal bailed on him, Murdock would still be there.

But that didn't change the fact that he was a liability when it came to Face a) pulling off a smooth scam and b) sweet talking any beautiful, lonely looking women who might want to meet him.

The diner was reasonably full when the two of them entered. Heads turned. Newcomers to a truck stop automatically attract attention, particularly when one is as good-looking as Face and the other currently snapping his fingers to a tune nobody else can hear.

The decor inside was fairly typical, with grubby tables and a dirty looking counter displaying various desserts behind a glass case covered in the obligatory smeary fingerprints. The girl behind the counter looked no older than eighteen, and Face thought she might be quite pretty if she'd wash her hair.

"Okay." The lieutenant moved closer to Murdock; the stench of greasy food and the odd unwashed body was making him feel queasy, and he couldn't help wishing they'd picked a more upmarket diner for breakfast. "We play it cool. Alright? Just...don't attract attention, okay?"

Murdock nodded, face perfectly serious. "Play it cool. Sure, Faceman. I can do that."

Turning, he strode on up to the counter, placed both hands on it and proclaimed in a loud and clear voice, "_Fear_ me, you lords and lady preachers!"

"Oh my god..."

"I descend upon your earth from the skies! I command your very souls you unbelievers! Bring before me what is mine: four cheeseburgers, four Cokes – three regular, one diet – _and_—" Murdock paused for dramatic emphasis while Face tried very hard to look like he wasn't with him— "a sausage for Billy please. To go." Dropping into a flawless impression of Elvis, he added, "Thank you. Thank you very much."

Closing his eyes, Face groaned. He never objected to being the centre of attention, but this was the wrong sort of attention. Pretty girls were supposed to look at him with admiration and a little bit of hope, not giggle about him to their friends.

"Murdock..."

"What? You said play it cool, Faceman, and that's what I'm doin'. Playin' it _co-o-ol_." Murdock's 'co-o-ol' ranged from B flat to D sharp.

_Oh well. Least he didn't bring Billy with him._

Another time, Face would have amused himself flirting with any attractive girls in the vicinity while he waited for the food to arrive. This time, his heart wasn't in it. He did return a couple of looks with a smile, purely out of habit, then took the food and paid for it.

"Here!" He stuffed the bag against Murdock's chest and left, the pilot ambling alongside.

Hannibal grinned around as Face opened the door. "How'd it go?"

"Gee, I don't know, Hannibal, why don't you ask Freddie Mercury over there?" Face clambered inside and settled himself in his seat.

"Ah. That good, huh?"

Face glared at him. "Let's just get outta here. BA!"

The van stayed where it was as BA twisted round to glare at Face. "I ain't goin' nowhere unless you stop singing!"

"What? Yeah, fine, I promise never to sing again. Now can we please _move_ it?"

BA floored the accelerator and the van screeched away, smoke rising off the tires. In the back, Murdock rooted around in the food for a few minutes before extracting a sausage and dangling it two feet above the floor.

"C'mon Billy! C'mon boy! Sit up. Si-i-it up. You gonna sit up?" Pause. "Billy, if you don't sit up, I'm gonna eat this here sausage myself!" Pause. "_Yeah_, thatsa good boy." Murdock dropped the sausage, which thunked onto the floor.

"Shut up, fool! Ain't no dog back there! And get that food offa my floor!"

Seeing Murdock looked like he was about to a) protest or b) resume singing, BA turned on the radio just as Brenda Lee came on the air.

_All alone am I ever since your goodbye_

_All alone with just a beat of my heart_

_People all around, but I don't--_

"Uh...Faceman?" Murdock frowned at the lieutenant, who had suddenly frozen. "You okay?"

"Turn that off, Hannibal." Face's voice was hoarse, almost inaudible.

"What?" Hannibal glanced round, surprised. Face didn't usually object to the radio.

What he saw didn't reassure him. Face's skin was so white even his lips had a bluish tinge, and there was a tense, strained look on the lieutenant's face that Hannibal had never seen before.

"TURN IT OFF!" Dropping his food, Face made a dive for the radio, inadvertently knocking BA's arm and causing the van to swerve across the road, narrowly missing an oncoming car.

"Okay, okay! Take it easy!" Hannibal clicked the dial as BA attempted to regain control of the van. "It's off. See? It's off."

Face let out a breath that he hadn't realised he'd been holding, then slumped back in his seat, running his hands over his face.

"Are you okay?" Hannibal felt stupid asking even as the question left his lips - Face was most definitely not okay, he was as far from okay as the colonel had ever seen him - but he didn't know how else to broach the topic.

"What?" Face glanced up. "Sure. Sure I'm okay, Hannibal. Why wouldn't I be?" He forced a shrug, then a grin. "I just...don't like that song, that's all."

"It didn't look like you didn't like that song, kid; it looked like you were terrified outta your wits."

The lieutenant managed a laugh. "What? C'mon Hannibal, that's crazy! I mean, why would I be scared of a _song_?"

And if it had been anybody else, he probably could have pulled it off. But Hannibal was a little too shrewd, and he knew Face too well to be fooled by him.

"Face..."

"I mean it! I'm fine! Where's my burger?"

"You dropped it on the floor when you tried to assassinate the radio," Hannibal answered, "and then trod on it."

"What? Oh." Face glanced down at the smashed mess of relish, ketchup, burger and bap that had been ground into the floor by his boot. "Right." He settled back, glancing to his right. It was done purely for show, since the back seats didn't have a window to look out of, but Hannibal got the message well enough. Pushing Face for answers now would just make the lieutenant clam up tighter.

Murdock broke his burger in half and gave one piece to Face, going so far as to push it into the other man's hand when Face didn't immediately respond.

The rest of the journey passed in silence.

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**Okay, more will be along soon :) Hope you liked this chapter and if you read, please review!**


	2. Missing

**Lunaz: Thanks; glad to hear you're enjoying it :)**

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"'Welcome to sunny Sacheton'," Murdock read aloud as the van drove past the sign...just like he'd been reading every road sign they passed for the last three miles, from restaurant names to speed limits. Someone had sprayed graffiti under this particular sign which read, _Wish You Were Here, Instead of Me_.

"Ain't nothin' _sunny_ about it!"

BA was right. As if to match Face's mood, it had started to rain ten minutes after they'd left the truck stop, a light, drizzling rain that hadn't shown any signs of letting up yet.

"Hey big guy, I jus' _read_ the signs, I don't _write_ 'em."

Hannibal chomped on his cigar, glancing out the window as the houses rolled by. Sacheton may not have been particularly sunny, but it was a nice looking town for all that. Homey. The kind of place where your bank manager knows not just you, but your kids and your pet dog by name.

_It'll do_, he thought, and raised his voice.

"It might be an idea to stop off here, pick up some food for later." He twisted around to look at the only member of the Team who had yet to react to any of this. "Face? What do you say?"

"What?" The lieutenant, who had been pretending to look out the non-existent window, shot him an irritated glance, then looked away again. "Oh. Yeah. Sure, Hannibal, whatever you say."

"You feeling okay, kid?"

"I'm _fine_! Why does everybody keep asking me that?" Face demanded, somewhat unfairly since this was the first time anyone had mentioned it.

Murdock edged a little closer to the lieutenant and lowered his voice to a friendly, conspiratorial tone. "Y'know Faceman, I had an aunt once who used to go _nuts_ every time she heard the song _Summer Holiday_."

Face's head snapped around again and he glared at the other man. "Murdock, I did NOT go nuts!"

Murdock looked a little wounded. "Never said you did. I was just makin' conversation."

The glare simmered down a little as Face stared at the pilot, wondering – not for the first time – just how crazy Murdock actually was. There were times when he seemed to act completely sane—

"Uh...Colonel? Can we pull over? I think Billy gotta go to the bathroom."

—for a given value of _sane_, of course.

"Sure Murdock." Hannibal glanced around, then used his cigar to point at a parking bay a little way down the road from a grocery store. "BA, park it up over there, would ya?"

"Come on, Hannibal. You know there ain't no dog!"

"BA..."

Growling, BA pulled over, and Hannibal opened the door. "Right. Murdock, let Billy out before he does something on the carpet that BA won't like. BA, keep an eye out and I'll go get the food. Face, you're with me."

Face groaned. "Hannibal, this isn't a mission. I mean, we're buying _groceries. _You know, I think I'll just wait here with BA and—"

"Face!"

The lieutenant sighed and got to his feet. "Alright, I'm coming."

"Face?" Murdock plucked at Face's sleeve, an anxious look on his face. "Make sure you pick up a steak bone for Billy, okay?"

Grateful for the distraction, Face glanced at the pilot. "Murdock, he just ate."

"Well, sure, _now_. But he's gonna get hungry later on just like the rest of us. C'mon Faceman, you're buyin' food for everyone else. Whaddaya say?"

Face hesitated for a second before surrendering to the inevitable. "Sure. I'll, uh, see what I can do."

Hannibal's voice drifted in from outside. "Time's a-wastin', Lieutenant."

With a sigh that suggested he was about to sacrifice all that he held dear for the good of the Team, Face opened the door and slid out to join his colonel. The rain hit instantly, a cold, clammy drizzle that got into your bones and chilled you far faster than any torrential downpour. He had a nasty suspicion why Hannibal had demanded his help, and as soon as Murdock had hopped back into the van with Billy and shut the door, he was proved right; the colonel moved in front and turned to face him.

"Something you want to say to me, kid?"

Face gave him a brilliant smile. "Sure, Hannibal. Let's see...it's a wet, grey day in the sweet neighbourhood of Sacheton, birds aren't singing, kids aren't playing but people _are_ starting to stare so you might wanna move right about now." When Hannibal didn't budge, Face continued. "Uh...the square root of fifteen hundred and twenty one is thirty nine, not sure what the cube is, gimme a minute on that and I'll get back to you. There's a sign in the window of that grocery store up ahead offering twenty percent off apples and bananas...hmm. Guess the fruit market's not so good here, huh?"

Shrugging, he started to go past, only to have Hannibal grip his elbow tightly.

"Talk to me, Lieutenant." There was pure steel in the colonel's voice.

Face raised an eyebrow. "I just did. Or did you have a particular subject in mind?" he added, then kicked himself for giving Hannibal the perfect opening.

"Why don't we start with what happened in the van back there?"

Pulling free, Face held up both his hands in surrender. "Look, I _said_ I was sorry about dropping that burger. I even offered to clean the ketchup outta the carpet!"

Hannibal gave him a long look as they started walking again. "Face..."

"Or...pay someone to do it," Face amended reluctantly. "Look, Hannibal, do we have to do this right here? Right now? In the rain?"

"I figured you'd rather here than in front of the others. Face, you really lost it back there. Now what is going on?"

"Well, I dunno, Hannibal, why don't you tell me? I mean, a song comes on the radio that I don't like, I ask you to turn it off and all of a sudden I'm getting the third degree here! You wouldn't be acting like this if BA had done it."

"That's because BA is _BA_. I know him, Face, and I know _you_, and I also know that you don't fly off the handle like that unless there's something seriously wrong." They reached the grocery store and Hannibal pushed open the door, causing a small bell to tinkle, and headed inside, Face following.

"The only thing _wrong_, Hannibal, is that I can't stand a certain singer singing a certain song! Now just lay off me, would ya?" Turning, Face strode away to the vegetable section and pretended to be interested in the cauliflowers there; an interest Hannibal knew was faked, since cauliflower was one of the few foods the lieutenant hated with the same kind of passion usually reserved by BA for people who scuffed his beloved van.

The colonel let it go, though. When they'd met in the POW camp in 'Nam, there had been a few – _very_ few – occasions when Hannibal had managed to break through the walls that Face had built up around himself. What he'd found inside had been a little disjointed and the colonel had had to fill in some of the blanks himself, but the one definite thing he'd learned was that Face's ability to trust other people hadn't just been damaged; it had been shattered. The only way he was likely to get answers out of Face was if the lieutenant wanted him to have them. Push him and he'd clam up, get defensive. _Really_ push him and he'd lose it, pretty much like he had back in the van.

Besides, unless Decker took it into his head to start singing Brenda Lee over the loudspeaker next time he caught up with them (which wasn't very likely, especially since Hannibal thought Louis Armstrong was much more suited to Decker's voice) the colonel couldn't see it being a problem.

_At least not from the Team's point of view_. He was concerned about Face on a personal level, but he respected the lieutenant too much to push him into a corner.

On the other side of the shop, Face picked up a bag of oranges and examined them carefully from all sides for bruising, then slung them in the basket and dropped half a dozen apples on top. Fruit and any other food that could be prepared without tables or cutlery was usually the order of the day, at least when the Team was planning to keep driving.

"Hey, uh, Hannibal?"

Hannibal turned away from the magazine rack to see Face standing in front of the chiller.

"Yeah?"

"How many cartons of milk do you think BA's gonna drink at lunchtime? Think four'll be enough?"

Hannibal pretended to consider. "Hmm...not sure. Better make it a half dozen just to be on the safe side."

"Right." Face opened the chiller, pulled out six cartons of milk and dumped them on top of the long-suffering oranges, then moved along until he came to the sandwich section and started hunting through it for ham and cheese.

The bell above the door tinkled again, announcing the arrival of a woman came in clutching a bundle of fliers tightly to her chest, as though frightened they'd vanish.

"Hey!" The shopkeeper, who rarely saw any out-of-towners in his store, and whose smile had been growing wider and wider with every item of food Face added to the basket, suddenly jerked up and glared at the woman. "Hey, I told you already, you can't put those things up here!"

The woman glanced around, smiled briefly as she saw Hannibal and Face looking at her with identical expressions of curiosity, then hurried up to the counter.

"Sam, please, just one—"

As Face and Hannibal watched, the man darted glances left and right, then lowered his voice.

"Look, Rita, you wanna get me in trouble? I feel for you, I really do, but Mr Markham said—"

"I don't give a damn what he said!" the woman called Rita erupted, slamming the fliers down onto the counter.

"No? Well, I do!" The shopkeeper picked them up again and shoved them into Rita's chest with enough force to send her stumbling back. "Take those things someplace else!"

Hannibal's voice was calm, measured as he moved up behind Rita and caught her before she fell, Face at his side.

"Is there a problem here?"

Rita opened her mouth but the shopkeeper got there first.

"No. No problem. This lady was just leaving." This last with a pointed glare.

Face glanced at Rita, taking her in. Well-dressed, slim, not unattractive but not exactly a bombshell either. Despite her neat attire, there was an unkempt look about her, as though she'd stopped taking care of herself with any seriousness a long time ago and was now just going through the motions.

"I _said_, she was just leaving!" the man repeated when the woman didn't seem willing to take the hint.

Face raised his eyebrows. "Is that right, ma'am?"

Without answering, the woman whirled and strode out, still clutching the fliers to her. A couple fluttered to the ground and Hannibal picked them up, studying one and holding the other out to Face, who was unloading his grocery basket on the counter.

"Hey Face, look at this."

Leaving the shopkeeper to finish ringing up the food, the lieutenant took the flier and looked obligingly. A grainy, black and white photo of a teenage girl smiled out at him. The picture wasn't good quality, but it was still clear enough to see that this girl was exceptionally pretty.

_Give it another five or six years and she'll be a real beauty_, Face thought, then looked down at the words written underneath.

**MISSING**

**Christina "Chrissy" Allen, 15**

**Wearing a yellow blouse and blue jeans**

**Please call 555-4383**

He glanced up at Hannibal, who was wearing a familiar expression, and groaned. "Oh, no. Hannibal, come _on_! This kid could be halfway across the country by now, if she's even still alive!"

"Face." It was as much of a reproof as Hannibal could make it. "Now we've got a couple of good leads already—"

"We do?" Face cut across, in tones which said he wouldn't believe it if he saw it written in the sky. "Colonel, that woman didn't even bother to look at us, let alone give us any leads."

Hannibal grinned. "Come on, Lieutenant. Think about it."

Uncomfortably aware that – win or lose – he wasn't going to come out of this argument particularly well, Face backed down a little.

"I'm not saying we _shouldn't_ try to help her—"

"Good!"

"—I'm just saying that I think it's gonna be impossible, even with your mysterious leads."

"Hardly mysterious." Hannibal handed over two ten dollar bills to the now apprehensive looking store clerk and took his change and one of the grocery bags. "Let's go, kid. We'll drop this stuff off at the van, then see if we can find that woman again."

Face groaned. "You know something, Hannibal? Once, just _once_, it'd be nice if we could, I dunno, go grocery shopping, or have a drink, or even just fill up with gas _without_ stumbling across some cause that needs championing! I mean, I know this sounds a little nuts but I'm starting to think there's some kinda conspiracy going on."

"You know something, Face?" Hannibal clapped the lieutenant on the shoulder with a grin. "You're absolutely right."

Face hesitated. "I am?"

"Yeah. It does sound nuts." Turning, the colonel strolled outside, leaving Face to gather up the rest of the groceries and follow him with a long-suffering sigh.

"Right..."

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**Okay, more will be along soon! In the meantime, if you read, please review, and thank you to everyone who has so far! :)**


	3. Nightmares

**mlpsunflower: Thanks :) And as requested, one next update...**

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"She went missing three weeks ago. She was always such a popular girl, surrounded by friends. One day she said she was going to spend the night with her friend Marcie. She was supposed to be coming back the next morning. She never did."

After dropping the food off and filling BA and Murdock in on what had happened, it had taken the Team just ten minutes to find the woman called Rita again. BA had suggested taking her for a ride in the van and talking to her there, since Sacheton was a small town and at this point he didn't think it would be a good idea to draw too much attention to themselves by visiting the home of a woman who seemed to be under some kind of scrutiny already.

This idea had lasted for as long as it took Face to point out that any woman who was suddenly accosted by four strange men and dragged into a black van was bound to get the wrong idea, which was why the Team was now sitting (or in Hannibal's case, standing) in a tiny living room, surrounded on all sides by pictures of Chrissy Allen.

"I don't even know who you are or why I'm telling you all this." Rita blew her nose, then scrunched up the tissue and threw it into the overflowing waste paper basket. Murdock pulled out a clean one and handed it to her, just like he'd been doing ever since the Team showed up.

"Just think of us as a bunch of concerned citizens, ma'am." Hannibal turned and wandered over to the window – he always claimed he found it easier to think when he was moving – then half turned to face the woman. "Now, you said that Chrissy was a popular girl. Is it possible she may have had a boyfriend that you didn't know about?"

Rita was shaking her head before Hannibal had finished asking the question.

"No. No, she was a good girl. I don't mean she wasn't interested in boys, I mean if she'd met one then she wouldn't have kept it a secret from me."

That was open for debate, Hannibal thought, since most parents really knew very little about what their children got up to.

"Who's Markham?" Face put in before the colonel could think of a tactful way of speaking his mind.

"Jack Markham. He owns the house at the end of the town. Most of the town as well. He said I wasn't allowed to put up these flyers." Rita placed her hand protectively over a pile of the Missing posters, as though expecting the Team to snatch them away there and then.

A smile appeared on Hannibal's face, one his teammates had learned to dread. It signified the colonel was already halfway to being on the jazz.

"Face, this Markham guy knows something, else why would he be so determined to stop Rita here putting up these flyers? What do you say we pay him a little visit, see if we can persuade him to confide in us?"

Face knew his role in the proceedings as well as anyone else, and so he smiled back. "Why, Hannibal, I think that would be a very good idea."

"You can't." Another tissue joined the pile and was replaced by the ever-patient Murdock.

Hannibal's grin broadened. "Lady, the word _can't_ isn't in our vocabulary."

Rita shook her head. "No, I mean you really _can't_. I tried to get in to see him. He's out on business and not due back until tomorrow."

Hannibal shrugged. "Alright. Come tomorrow, we'll go see what he has to say. Face, you think you can get us a place to stay?"

The lieutenant grinned. "Hannibal, please. Can birds fly?"

"Well, actually, Faceman, if you're talkin' 'bout emus an' penguins—"

"Murdock..."

* * *

"Okay." Face looked around the lounge. It was small but nicely furnished, with a couch and armchair arranged around a TV set and vague watercolour prints on the wall. "Well, it's a two-bedroom apartment, so Hannibal and I'll take the master and BA, you're with Murdock. Any questions?"

"Yeah! Why do _I_ always end up sleepin' with the crazy guy? Why can't I bunk in with you or Hannibal once in a while?"

Face hesitated. _Because you snore like a jackhammer,_ while accurate, probably wasn't the best answer he could give if he wanted to keep all his teeth where Nature intended.

"Well, BA...someone's gotta go in with Murdock—"

"So why's that _someone_ always gotta be me? You're his friend, Face; how come you don't go in with him?"

Face debated with himself whether or not to tell BA about the Bigfoot mating call Murdock had tooted on every five minutes last time he'd been stupid enough to share a room with the pilot, then decided it wouldn't help his case any.

"Point one, Hannibal's the leader of the A-Team, so he should get the best room. Point two, _I'm_ the one who got us this apartment so _I_ get first pick after him. And point three, BA, Murdock happens to be standing right next to you, so stop talking about him like he's not here!"

BA opened his mouth to protest this, but Hannibal got there first, a broad grin on his face.

"You mean like that?"

"Aw, _Faceman_." Murdock wrapped the lieutenant in a bear hug that not only pinned Face's arms to his sides but threatened to crush his lungs as well. "Didn't know you cared."

"Yeah...great...Murdock. Now get off me before you break my ribs."

"Sorry buddy." The pilot released Face, then slung a friendly arm around his shoulders, which Face did his best to unsling without being too obvious about it.

"Face?"

"Yeah?" Grateful for the interruption, the lieutenant ducked away from Murdock and over to Hannibal, who had just opened the door to the master suite and was now grinning broadly.

"Did you, uh, have time to look through this apartment before taking it?"

"No, why?"

"I think you better." Hannibal stepped back, giving Face a clear view of the master bedroom, his grin widening.

Face looked past the colonel into the room. It was large, with fitted closets and a dresser underneath the window, which overlooked the alley and the apartment block opposite.

The good news was that it also had a bed for him and Hannibal to sleep in.

The bad news was that it was a double.

"So, sweetheart—" Hannibal's grin was now so wide he was having difficulty forming his words— "which side do you want?"

"Ah. Uh. Heh heh." Face drew back, closing the door, and turned a speculative gaze on the couch. Friends he and Hannibal may be, and the colonel was one of the very few people that Face did consider a friend, but there was still no way he was going to share a bed with the guy. "You know, I've been thinking, Hannibal...maybe we should let BA take the master, I mean, he does have a point, he rarely gets the best room—"

"Face, if BA hates the idea of being in the same room as Murdock, how on _earth_ were you planning to break the news to him that he's got to be in the same bed?"

Face glanced at BA, who was occupied in raiding the fridge for milk, then back at Hannibal and put on his best, most charming grin. "Well, I was hoping you might consider..." He let the sentence trail off hopefully, then, when the colonel refused to finish it, groaned. "Right. Okay. So how about if BA takes the bed and Murdock takes the couch? The guest room's got two beds, right?"

Hannibal opened the door opposite to check, then closed it again. "Yeah."

"Right, so you and I can go in there. Or maybe _I_ could take the double and—"

"Not on your life, kid. I haven't slept on the couch since I got divorced, and that was before I went to 'Nam. You and I can take the twin beds, BA can have the double and Murdock can go on the couch. Maybe they can trade tomorrow night, but I'm not going to share a room with BA or Murdock since I wouldn't get any peace with either of them. You, on the other hand, don't snore, and at least I can count on you not to wake me up."

* * *

Face sat bolt upright in bed, shaking all over, sheets clinging to his sweat-soaked body and one hand clamped over his mouth to stifle the scream. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, so fast it was physically painful.

He ran trembling hands through damp hair and squeezed his eyes shut, shuddering. His muscles seemed to have turned to water. It was a long time before he was able to summon the strength to stand and even then he had to clutch at the nightstand for support. The stench of his own sweat in the small bedroom was overpowering and Face fumbled around the window, trying to open it.

"Looking for this?" Hannibal's voice was very quiet as he held out the key.

The lieutenant was still shaking so badly it took him two attempts before he managed to take it and another three before he could unlock the window and open it, gulping at the fresh night air. Putting his hands on the sill, he thrust his torso outside so fast that for a second Hannibal half thought he was going to throw himself out.

A breeze wafted against his skin, cooling him, soothing him, and Face closed his eyes, relishing the sensation.

He stayed there as long as he could manage, in the somewhat vain hope that Hannibal would have gone away by the time he got back in.

No such luck. The colonel was still standing there, watching him...not that Face had really expected anything else. Hannibal was concerned, that much was obvious, but there was a hard light in his eyes that said he wasn't going to let it go this time.

"So much for not waking me up."

"I'm sorry." Face barely recognised the hoarse voice coming out of his mouth as his own.

"It's alright. You feel better?"

Face, realising that the question wasn't so personal that he could reasonably ignore it, contented himself with a nod. Past experience had taught him that whenever he actually _spoke_ to Hannibal in these situations, he always ended up saying far more than he'd meant to. Admittedly Hannibal had never repeated anything Face told him, but that wasn't the point.

"Good. What's going on?"

Face shrugged, then realised it made him look like a sulky teenager and decided to risk a few words.

"Nothing. Nothing's going on."

"Come on, kid." When Face looked away and refused to answer, Hannibal shook his head. "You know, for a con artist, Face, you're doing one heckuva lousy job of lying to me."

"I'm not lying, okay? I'm fine. I don't even remember what I was dreaming about." The lieutenant turned to go back, and Hannibal sidestepped neatly in front of him.

"Don't give me that. You're pale, you're dripping with sweat—" and that was putting it mildly, Hannibal thought, since Face's hair was currently plastered to his head with the stuff— "and you're shaking all over—"

"I'm not. See?" Face held up a hand, palm down, and managed to stop it trembling by the simple process of clenching every single muscle from the shoulder down. The overall effect was somewhat spoiled by the fact that the rest of his body was still quivering.

"—_and_ you were talking in your sleep."

The lieutenant's head snapped around to stare at Hannibal so fast the colonel knew he'd been lying about not remembering the dream.

"I was?" Face swallowed, attempting to keep his voice and expression casual. He failed on both counts; he now looked panic-stricken. "What...what did I say?"

Hannibal met his gaze. "_No_. _Please_. And something about not wanting to go into the dark room."

Face wondered whether to have had a traumatic experience involving the high school photography club, or a form of torture in the POW camp that only he'd had to undergo, then reluctantly dismissed both stories as being too easy for Hannibal to disprove.

"Oh." He forced a laugh. "That. Back at the orphanage, if you wanted to get to the dining room you had to go through this tiny little corridor. It was usually well lit but one time the bulb burnt out as I was walking through and the whole place went dark. Gave me the creeps. Guess it's kinda stupid really, huh?"

"Yeah. Not as stupid as you seem to think I am, though."

"What?" The lieutenant blinked. "Sorry Hannibal, I'm not with you."

"Sure you are, Face." The lightness in Hannibal's tone never reached his eyes. "You really expect me to fall for that cock-and-bull story?"

"It's not a story." It wasn't – the incident had really happened, and it had been several weeks before Face was wholly comfortable going along that corridor again – but it wasn't what he'd been dreaming about either.

"It's not what caused this either." Hannibal's voice lowered, became more serious. "What was it really, kid?"

"'Nam." The lie came too quickly to Face's lips. "I dreamed I was back in the POW camp."

"No you didn't." Hannibal wasn't arguing with Face; he was stating a fact and they both knew it. All four members of the Team still had the occasional bad dream about 'Nam, but never like this. Face's dream hadn't even been a bad dream; it had been a full-fledged screaming nightmare. A part of Hannibal ached to comfort the lieutenant; the other part knew that Face would never let him.

_Yeah Hannibal. Give him a nice, warm hug or something. That'd really freak the poor kid out...not to mention you._ While Hannibal was prepared to watch over his team and quite literally die for them if he had to, he wasn't exactly big on displays of physical affection beyond a clap on the shoulder, and Face was even less comfortable with it.

That said, he'd seen Murdock hug Face before, but then he'd also seen Murdock hug dogs, complete strangers, helicopters, trees and on one particularly strange day, his own leg. (The pilot had claimed that since it was his right foot that did most of the legwork when driving, his left leg had started to get jealous and so he'd had to reassure it that it was still just as loved and appreciated as ever).

"Yeah I did."

It wasn't a particularly good lie – certainly not by the lieutenant's usual standards, and Hannibal had been so caught up in his own thoughts that it took him a second or two to remember what Face was talking about – but that didn't matter much, since Hannibal was the one person that the lieutenant had never been able to fool.

He'd tried when they'd first met, because back then lying and cheating had been as natural to the twenty year old Face as breathing, and unlike now, he didn't care whether he scammed his own people or the enemy. He'd marked Hannibal as a potential target, only to find the colonel two steps ahead of every scam he attempted to pull. As time had gone on, it became less about getting something from Hannibal, and more about the actual challenge of outwitting him.

"There was no dark room, as you call it, in the POW camp." Again, the same matter-of-fact tone. They'd both undergone every form of torture that the camp commander could devise, Hannibal more often than Face. "You're lying."

Face shot him an icy look, lip curled. "So what?"

"Lieutenant..." It was a warning. Casual and informal they may be, but Hannibal would still only tolerate a certain amount of insubordination.

"Just leave me alone, Hannibal!" Face spun away, then added in a quieter tone. "I'll see you later."

"Where are you going?"

The lieutenant paused in the doorway, then fixed Hannibal with the hardest stare he could manage.

"To the bathroom, to take a shower, since as you so kindly pointed out, I'm dripping with sweat." Drawing himself to attention, he added, "Permission, _sir_?"

"Don't take that tone with me, lieutenant!"

"Then butt out!" Face snapped. "Look Hannibal, I'm not gonna freak out during a firefight or any other time when it really matters, so what do you care if I have a bad dream?"

The words _I care because I care about you_ shot up Hannibal's throat, and it was only with a supreme effort that he was able to choke them down again. Past experience had taught him that Face really didn't react well to statements like that. Plenty of people have a fear of rejection, but the lieutenant was the only person Hannibal had ever met who seemed to have an equal fear of being liked and accepted.

_Probably because the only people who ever said they liked him did so just before kicking him in the teeth_, Hannibal thought grimly.

He wasn't stupid enough to say any of that to Face, though; all he said was, "If you keep having these nightmares, you'll be too tired to be any use to the Team."

"Keep having? I've had _one_." The lieutenant shook his head. "You know, I could understand you acting this way if this had been going on all week, but it's the first time. You wanna give me another few nights before you start launching into the third degree?"

It sounded like Face, but Hannibal couldn't shake the feeling there was something missing. The kid's mouth seemed to be running on automatic, saying what he felt was necessary without paying too much attention to his own cover story. In this case, though, he did have a point; one incident was hardly a serious problem.

_What the hell. Maybe the kid's right. Maybe I'm overreacting. _

But even as he thought it, he knew he wasn't.

"If it happens again—" he began.

"It won't." Face pulled the door open.

Hannibal folded his arms. "Lieutenant?"

Face paused and looked around. "Yeah?"

"Don't even _think_ of trading beds with BA or Murdock tomorrow night." If Face kept having nightmares like this one, the colonel wanted to know about it.

The lieutenant gave no sign that he'd heard; he just continued looking at Hannibal for a few seconds to see if he was going to say anything else, then turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him hard enough to vibrate it in its frame.

* * *

**Okay, hopefully the next one should be up a little faster (operative word here being 'hopefully') In the meantime, hope you enjoyed this one and if you read, please review!**


	4. People You Know

**maan: Thanks :)**

**lunaz: Heh, thanks :D Yeah, I had fun writing the, uh, conversation between Face and Hannibal ;)**

**mlpsunflower: You're welcome :) Thanks for the review ;)**

**

* * *

**Hannibal had barely dropped off to sleep when there was a loud knock on the door and he jerked awake again, sitting up and fumbling at the table for the bedside light.

"Huh? Face? That you?"

"Colonel, can you think a _any_ reason why Face'd knock on his own bedroom door?"

Hannibal groaned and lay back down again. "Murdock, it's—" he checked his clock— "half past three in the _morning_. Can't it wait?"

Murdock sauntered in, looking indecently alert for someone at half past three in the morning.

"Sure colonel. I just wondered if you could tell me why Face is takin' a shower at this time."

It came as no surprise to Hannibal that BA – just across the hallway – had slept through his and Face's argument (including the lieutenant's door slamming) and Murdock – on the other side of the apartment – had not. The pilot was an extremely light sleeper.

_Heck, he probably woke up before I did_.

"Face..." Hannibal began, then stopped. Somehow he didn't think Face would want the rest of the Team knowing about this. "I, uh, I had a nightmare. Woke him up."

Murdock didn't say anything. He didn't have to; his expression as he looked to Face's bed with the sweat-soaked sheets and pillows strewn all over the place and then to the far neater affair Hannibal was sitting on was answer enough.

"We swapped beds," Hannibal added. "Face said I could use his and he'd find somewhere else to sleep." That last part was probably true; somehow the colonel didn't think Face would be returning to the bedroom after what had just happened...although with BA in the master bedroom, himself in the spare room and Murdock in the lounge, Hannibal couldn't help wondering where Face _was_ planning to sleep; in the bath, perhaps.

"Uh huh." Murdock looked skeptical and Hannibal remembered too late that although the pilot might be crazy (operative word there being _might_; he still hadn't figured out how much of an act it was) he wasn't stupid. "So if _you_ had the nightmare, colonel, how come Faceman was the one in the shower? An' if that bed you're sittin' on is his, how come his watch is over there by that other one?"

"He lent it to me."

Murdock nodded towards the watch around Hannibal's wrist. "Somethin' wrong with yours?"

"Yeah, battery's gone. Face said I could borrow his."

Voice calm, almost a monotone, Murdock said, "Sure, colonel. That's gonna come in real handy when you're asleep. Funny though; I didn't think Rolex had added an alarm clock to their wristwatches. 'Sides, your radio alarm seems to be workin' okay, so why'd you switch now an' not in the mornin'?"

Hannibal fixed the pilot with a hard look, which Murdock ignored. "I don't see that's got anything to do with you, captain."

"It does when someone's lyin' about one a my friends, Hannibal!"

That was only to be expected, Hannibal knew. Murdock's loyalty to his friends bordered on the fanatical; he'd take a bullet for them without even thinking about it, or take on anybody who looked like they were going to hurt them either physically or emotionally.

"I'm not lying about anyone, Murdock."

"That's good to know, colonel. What's Face doin' in the shower?"

"I don't know. Why don't you ask him yourself?"

Actually, now that he thought about it, that wasn't such a bad idea. Murdock seemed to be the sole exception to Face's anti-trust rule, although now that Hannibal thought about _that_, the pilot was the exception to most rules. Still, if the lieutenant had confided in anyone, it would be him.

"Murdock?"

"Yeah?"

"Did Face say anything to you about a nightmare?"

Murdock's face was completely unreadable as he answered, "Why would _Face_ say anythin' to me about a nightmare? _You_ were the one who had it, colonel."

He pivoted on his heel and strode out, banging Hannibal's long-suffering door behind him.

_Great, Hannibal. Now you have two of your men mad at you. Nice going._

The colonel turned the light off and lay back down again, staring into the darkness. Some people might have found it hard to sleep under similar circumstances, but Hannibal had mastered the art of dropping off anytime, anywhere in 'Nam. Ten minutes later, he was asleep and didn't wake up until his alarm started its cheerful bleeping four hours later.

The scent of bacon and eggs drifted through, making Hannibal's stomach growl hopefully as he got out of bed and got dressed.

BA was already awake and sitting at the small table, munching his way through his third piece of toast while Murdock fried bacon and mixed up an omelet the size of a dinner plate. The pilot was a good cook; even Face, who was usually far more paranoid about putting on weight than most girls Hannibal had met, had been known to go back for seconds.

"Mornin' colonel!" Murdock's voice was as cheerful as ever, and Hannibal found himself wondering if he'd somehow dreamed their conversation last night.

"Morning Murdock. BA."

BA, who had just chosen that moment to fill his mouth with half a piece of toast, made a kind of grunting noise that signified a greeting and went back to his meal. The sergeant was never a great one for conversation at mealtimes.

"You guys seen Face?" Hannibal added.

BA shook his head.

"Yeah, I did, colonel." Murdock glanced over his shoulder. "He went out for a walk just after I finished talkin' to you last night. Ain't come back yet."

Hannibal stared at the pilot. "_What_? He went out for a walk at three thirty am and you didn't stop him?"

BA swallowed his food. "Hannibal, I'm startin' to worry 'bout Face. He been actin' strange ever since he heard that song."

Hannibal didn't answer. BA had no idea about Face's nightmare, and the colonel wanted to keep it that way. The sergeant, however, had never needed an answer or encouragement to voice his opinion.

"You guys remember how he got that time in the POW camp back in 'Nam? Wouldn't talk. Man, he wouldn't even nod or shake his head! Guy just went right inside himself and wouldn't come out."

Murdock turned a quelling stare on BA. "Uh huh. And do _you_ remember just whose fault that was, sergeant?"

There was no trace of insanity or levity in his voice, just a sharpness that made Hannibal wonder for the hundredth time whether Murdock was really crazy or just one heck of an actor.

BA didn't answer, which was answer enough in itself. The incident had happened back in the POW camp, when Hannibal had been working on earning the lieutenant's trust for an entire month only to have BA destroy it all with a few badly chosen words.

The results had been devastating. Face had withdrawn so far inside himself that he'd stopped speaking, not just to Hannibal but to everyone else in the camp. That had been one of the few times Hannibal had seen Murdock pull rank, ordering BA out of the billet. The sergeant had been so taken aback at being chewed out by a furious Murdock that he'd obeyed without thinking about it.

_Of course, Face was a lot younger then_. The colonel wasn't too worried about it happening again; the present Face was a far cry from the lost and terrified twenty year old kid that had wound up in the POW camp all those years ago. Whatever was bugging the lieutenant, Hannibal was sure Face could handle it.

Hannibal was just starting his second cup of coffee while waiting for Murdock to finish cooking his breakfast when the apartment door clicked open and Face walked in. He looked tired, but a lot calmer than he had earlier.

"Hi guys." Face crossed over to the coffee machine, poured out a cup of coffee, chugged it and poured out another without hesitating.

"Morning kid." Hannibal's voice was deceptively casual. "How'd you sleep?"

"Great. Fine. Couldn't be better. You?"

Hannibal kept half an eye on the younger man as he answered, "Well, something woke me up around three am."

The lieutenant shrugged as he sat down at the table. "Yeah, same here. Next door's cats were fighting."

That, Hannibal had learned, was a typical Face answer. It _sounded_ like an explanation until you actually stopped to think about it and realised that it was just a completely unrelated statement.

"Is that what woke you up, Face? Next door's cats fighting?"

"Well, they were pretty loud, Hannibal."

"I didn't ask you if they were loud, kid; I asked you if the noise made by next door's cats fighting woke you up at any time last night." Satisfied he hadn't left any loopholes for the lieutenant to wriggle through, Hannibal leaned back in his chair and raised his eyebrows.

"Well, you got it better'n Hannibal here." Murdock deposited a cooked breakfast in front of Hannibal before Face had to reply. "He told me he had a nightmare."

The lieutenant blinked. "_You_ had a nightmare?"

"Sure Face." Hannibal sipped at his coffee. "You remember. You said I could use your bed and you went to sleep in the...where _did_ you sleep in the end?"

"I didn't. Well, couldn't. I went out for a walk. Found Markham's place, it's right up the other end of town. About five miles away."

Hannibal raised his eyebrows. He wasn't surprised Face hadn't gone back to sleep after the nightmare he'd had. At least the lieutenant had done something to take his mind off it.

"Nice. Did you get a look inside?"

Face shook his head. "No. Markham's got guard dogs and they were getting kinda antsy when I was there. The whole property's walled off. I tried climbing the wall to get a better look, but there's broken glass all along the top."

"Broken glass?" Hannibal glanced at him. "Are you alright?"

"What? Oh. Yeah, I didn't touch it. The dogs were going nuts at that point and I just wanted to get out."

Hardly surprising, the colonel thought, amused. With the exception of Billy, Face really wasn't a dog person.

"So having walked five miles there, you then walked five miles back?"

"Yeah. Well, I mean, I couldn't stay out all night and five miles...it was only about an hour's walk."

"Why didn't you take the van?"

Face shrugged. "Like I said, I felt like a walk. Besides, BA sleeps with the keys under his pillow, I'm not about to sneak into his room and stick my hand underneath him while he's asleep. I might wake him up."

"Faceman, you couldn't wake this mudsucker up if you put a _bomb_ under his pillow." Murdock flipped Face's omelet and BA's second helping of bacon in the pan, decided both were cooked enough and headed over to the table with them. "Ain't that right, big guy?"

"I wish I had a bomb to put under _your_ pillow, fool!"

"Oh, I see. That's the thanks I get for slavin' all day over a hot stove, huh?" Murdock switched the second helping of bacon from BA's plate to Hannibal's.

"Thanks Murdock," Hannibal said without looking up, while BA smouldered gently in the background.

"So what's the plan, Hannibal?" Face wanted to know around bites of omelet.

"Well, Face, since you went on a little recon mission of your own last night – or rather, earlier this morning – and found out where Markham's place is, I think you and I oughta pay him a little visit."

Face put down his fork. "How did I know you were gonna say that?"

The colonel grinned. "I think you're getting to know me, lieutenant. And on the subject of last night—"

It really was amazing how quick Face could be when he wanted to, he thought as the lieutenant shot to his feet so fast he knocked his chair over.

"Yeah, well, you know, Hannibal, I think I'll go wait by the van. Keep an eye out."

"Face, I was just gonna ask you if you can find your way back in daylight."

The lieutenant, who had already reached the door, turned, red in the face. "...Oh. Yeah, sure I can. It's pretty straightforward, you just get on the road outside, turn left and keep going. I'll, uh, I'll see you downstairs."

"What's with him?" BA demanded.

"I dunno, big guy. Mebbe _Hannibal's_ nightmare freaked him out." Murdock lifted Face's bacon off the plate and placed it lovingly in one of the bowls on the floor that he'd appropriated for Billy's use.

Hannibal inserted one of the Missing flyers into the pilot's now rather greasy hand.

"Murdock, go out around town and ask around, see what you can find out about this girl. She's local, so people must know something about her. And take BA with you."

"What? Hannibal, I ain't goin' _nowhere_ with this crazy fool!"

"Yes, you _are_, BA, because two of you will cover more ground and people find it harder to say _no_ to you. Face and I'll head up to see this Markham guy and we'll meet back here in two hours."

Picking up his gun, the colonel tucked it into his waistband, then paused as he thought of something else.

"Oh, and see if you can find out if there was any connection between Markham and Rita, or Chrissy Allen."

"You think he knows somethin', colonel?"

"He must have some reason for clamping down on those flyers." Hannibal grinned. "Besides, you know what they say, captain. Most kidnappings or attacks are done by people you know."

He strolled out the front door and down to the van, where he found Face had abandoned the idea of keeping watch in favour of a quick nap in the passenger seat.

Half amused, half annoyed, the colonel opened the door and stared down at him.

"This is what you call keeping an eye out, kid?" If the MPs had shown up while the lieutenant was snoozing...

Face didn't react. Considering he'd had no more than three hours' sleep the night before, and most of that hadn't been exactly peaceful, coupled with a ten mile walk/run, Hannibal supposed it wasn't surprising the lieutenant had dozed off. He didn't seem to be enjoying it, though; sweat was standing out on his forehead and he was squirming. Not quite thrashing around like he had last night, but he wasn't far off.

"Face?"

Face didn't give any sign he'd heard the colonel, which was surprising. Usually he wasn't a particularly heavy sleeper (unless, of course, it was his turn to take the night watch, in which case it took the combined efforts of both Hannibal and Murdock to drag him out of bed).

"Face!" Hannibal reached down and shook the lieutenant.

Seconds later he'd been seized and slammed to the ground. His head hit the sidewalk with an audible _crack _and such force that stars pinwheeled crazily across his vision. He could just about make out Face's fist drawn back to its owner's shoulder for a blow that would break Hannibal's jaw if it connected.

Hannibal held himself perfectly still, partly because he didn't want to aggravate the situation, partly because he was feeling too dazed to move, but mostly because Face's other hand was around his throat. Unlike amateurs, who went for the Adam's apple, the lieutenant's hand was wedged just above it, and the colonel knew it would only take a tiny amount of pressure to cut off his air supply completely. The attack had been so fast, so unexpected, that Hannibal hadn't had time to even _think_ of countering it.

"Face!" This time he put all the reassurance into his voice that he could manage. "Face, it's _me_!"

He could pinpoint the exact moment when sanity returned; the wild, terrified look went out of Face's eyes to be replaced with shock.

"Hannibal?"

"Yeah." Hannibal gestured towards Face's hand. "You mind letting go of my throat now?"

Face stared at his hand as though wondering how it had got there, then jerked away like he'd been burned and pushed himself to his feet, appalled at what he'd just done. What he'd almost done.

"Oh man. Hannibal, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I just...I don't know what came over me, I thought you were—" He broke off abruptly, looking away. "Sorry."

"What?" Hannibal got to his feet and touched the back of his head experimentally, brought away fingers sticky with blood. "You thought I was what, Face?"

"Nothing. Nothing. I'm fine."

"You're _not_ fine, kid, you're a nervous wreck. Now talk to me, dammit!"

"There's nothing to talk about. I'm okay now, Hannibal. I'm okay." Face ran trembling hands over his face and through his hair, then took a deep breath and seemed to calm down. "Where're the others?"

"People who are okay don't try to strangle other people, lieutenant. _Especially_ not their commanding officer."

"I _said _I was sorry, didn't I? What more do you want?"

"An explanation would be nice."

"What's to explain?" The lieutenant's face was masklike, eyes hooded and wary. Hannibal could practically hear mental doors slamming shut. "You should know better than to wake someone who's having a bad dream."

"You never went nuts like that before, kid."

Face looked away again and Hannibal realised the lieutenant hadn't just slammed the doors; he'd barricaded them and wrapped barbed wire around the handles for good measure.

"Yeah, well."

"Is that it?" Hannibal asked him after several seconds. "Five minutes ago I was flat on my back with your hand around my throat and looking at a little emergency dental work, and all the explanation I get from you is _yeah, well_?"

"Yeah. Well." Face gave a short laugh and leaned back against the van, looking up at the sky, which seemed indecently blue and cheerful for his mood. "Like I said, you shouldn't have woken me up."

"And _you_ shouldn't have fallen asleep on watch!" Hannibal snapped, not missing a beat.

That shut Face up, at least temporarily.

"Yeah. Sorry." That at least sounded genuine. "I don't know what happened."

"Oh, then allow me to explain. You had about three hours' broken sleep and a screaming nightmare followed by a five mile hike, several climbs up a twenty foot wall and another five mile hike back again. It's no wonder you're tired, kid, but if you knew you couldn't stay awake you should've said something!"

"I didn't _plan_ to fall asleep, Hannibal! I just...I was just resting my eyes for a few seconds. It won't happen again. I just...I didn't..." The lieutenant spun away, slamming a hand into the side of the van.

Hannibal leaned against the door, puffing on his cigar, and waited for Face to break the silence.

He didn't have to wait long. The lieutenant paced back and forth in front of him a grand total of twice before stopping and spinning to face him.

"This is _crazy_! It was a song, just a song! I don't know why you're making such a big deal of it!"

The colonel raised his eyebrows. "Who said anything about a song, Face?"

Face stared at him. It was the first time Hannibal had ever seen the younger man lost for words. The lieutenant had pulled a knife on him back in the POW camp, but even Hannibal could admit that it had been mostly his own fault. This was something completely different.

"But since you mentioned the song—" Hannibal added.

"That's got nothing to do with you!"

The colonel sighed, dropping his cigar butt onto the ground and treading it out. "Well, at least we've moved on from the _nothing's wrong with me_ story."

"Nothing _is_ wrong with me, Hannibal."

Hannibal gripped Face's shoulder and spun the younger man around to face him.

"Don't insult my intelligence, kid. I haven't seen you this edgy since that incident with Jones in the POW camp. You remember that?"

Face gave him a long look. "I try not to."

"Yeah." The incident in question had been a particularly nasty one, and despite what had just happened, Hannibal felt a twinge of conscience for reminding the lieutenant of it. "So what's your problem?"

"My problem is that I have _you_ on my back twenty four seven!"

"That's not fair and you know it, lieutenant!" Anger and concern both made Hannibal's voice sharper than he'd intended, causing a few heads to turn in their direction.

"No, I don't know it, Hannibal! Okay, I screwed up. I fell asleep on watch and you know what? I'm sorry. I really am, okay? But it's no – big – _deal_!"

"It would have been a big deal if Decker had showed up, Face!"

"Yeah, but he didn't. Look, I won't do it again, Hannibal, I swear."

Hannibal didn't answer. Face wasn't the first person to be a little disorientated upon being woken from a nightmare, but there had been something more than that. For a split second, the lieutenant had looked terrified.

"What were you dreaming about?"

A little annoyed that his changing the subject onto Decker hadn't worked, Face shrugged. "Nothing. I don't remember."

"C'mon kid." Hannibal caught hold of the lieutenant again. "Trust me."

"Yeah. You know, Hannibal, it's kinda hard to trust someone who doesn't trust you," Face retorted, with some truth. "For the last time, it's okay! _I'm_ okay!"

Hannibal studied him for a few minutes without speaking, as though he could look right through the lieutenant's eyes and find the answer written on the inside of his skull. He let the silence between them stretch out until Face started to look uncomfortable before speaking.

"Alright, Face. Maybe you're right. I do trust you, and if you say it's okay, then it's okay." He paused. "But if that changes..."

"Yeah, sure, you'll be the first to know." There was a little too much relief in Face's voice for Hannibal's liking, but he let it go.

_It was just a song, after all._ _A song and a couple bad dreams. If he says it's okay, then it's okay._

But he still couldn't forget the look of terror on the lieutenant's face.

* * *

The house was attractive-looking, American mock-Tudor set back in a long gravel driveway that ran straight up to the front porch and from there around the house, flanked by flower borders on either side. Other borders – most circular – were planted at regular intervals in the grounds and the splashing of water drew Hannibal's attention to what could have passed for either a huge fish pond or quite a small swimming pool.

"Nice place," Face commented.

It was a little more than _nice_. Any casual visitors would most likely have drawn the same conclusion, but Hannibal could see the landscape had been very carefully designed. Not from an aesthetic point of view – or rather, not _just_ from an aesthetic point of view – but from a defensive one.

There were no trees. No shrubs. Not even a small box hedge; just flowers in borders and a gravel driveway which surrounded the house for twenty feet on every side. In short, this was a house that would be impossible to sneak up on unless the inhabitants happened to be wearing blindfolds and ear plugs. Contrary to Face's description, however, there was no sign of any dogs. Maybe that was more of a nocturnal security measure.

"Think this Markham character might be a little paranoid?" he said aloud.

Face raised his eyebrows. "Could be, Hannibal. 'Course, the question is, why?"

"I've no idea, Face. What do you say we go ask him?"

"I think that would be a very good idea."

It was almost as if nothing had happened, the little double act between Hannibal and Face, unless you really looked closely at the lieutenant and saw the signs. A smile that was a little more brittle than usual. A tendency to fidget, and jerk at sudden noises. And an air of preoccupation that meant BA had had to bark Face's name in the lieutenant's ear to get a reaction earlier on, and then almost had his nose broken.

When they pulled up, Face opened the door and leapt out before the van had finished moving. By the time Hannibal had caught up to him, the lieutenant had already rung the doorbell.

"Face?"

"Hannibal, if you tell me to talk to you _one_ more time, I am going to take that cigar of yours and I am going to stub it out on your—hi there," Face interrupted himself, sliding from defensive to charming with barely a hint of mental gear crunching as the front door opened to reveal a maid. "I'm Templeton Peck; this here's Hannibal Smith. We're here to see Jack Markham."

"Do you have an appointment?"

The lieutenant's grin broadened. "Now do you think we'd come all the way here if we didn't have an appointment?"

"Mr Markham says he doesn't know anything about Chrissy Allen." The words had a mechanical feel to them, as though she'd said them hundreds of times already and could see herself saying them hundreds of times more in the future.

"Who?" Hannibal's innocent expression wouldn't have disgraced a professional actor. "You know a Chrissy Allen, Face?"

Face's look was equally bland. "No, can't say that I do, Hannibal. Anyway, Mr Markham is expecting us. He spoke with our boss on that business trip, you know, the one he just got back from, and our boss sent us down here."

"Mr Markham hasn't been on any business trip, sir."

The lieutenant blinked, exchanging a startled glance with Hannibal. "Well...that's strange. That's not what our employer said."

Hannibal let out a frustrated groan. "Oh, not _again_! That's the third time this month, I've been telling him for ages, he _really_ needs a new secretary!"

"Well, maybe if he spent a little more time doing his job and a little _less_ time helping her with hers..." Face cleared his throat meaningfully and quirked an eyebrow at the colonel, then returned his attention to the maid. "Look ma'am, it's probably just a mix up but we were still given this address and—"

"Mr Markham isn't seeing anyone today, sir."

"Yeah, but—"

The slammed door cut Face off and he turned to Hannibal with a sheepish shrug.

"Ah. Well. Uh."

"You're losing your touch, kid."

"I am not! I've just...I've had a lot on my mind recently. I got this, Hannibal. It's no big deal." Face skirted around the windows, eyeing them speculatively. There was a half open one next to the front door that had possibilities...

Hannibal frowned as he watched him. Face had been polite, sure, but hadn't even bothered trying to charm the maid or flirt with her...and she'd been supremely worth flirting with, in the colonel's opinion. He and Face had the same kind of taste in women (although admittedly Face was far less choosy) and the blue eyed, dark haired young thing was very much the lieutenant's style.

He didn't have time to wonder about it for very long, however, since that was the moment when the first of two heavily armed security guards rounded the corner of the building.

Hannibal's first observation was that the IQ of this pair – like so many others the Team had dealt with – seemed to be roughly on a par with their shoe sizes. The second observation was that he'd seen both of them while driving through Sacheton the day before.

Both these observations entered his head more or less simultaneously, and then had to move out very fast to make room for the third observation; namely that the automatic weapons they were carrying were now pointing at his and Face's chests.

* * *

**Okay, so that's it for now :) Hope you liked it and if you read, please review!**


	5. Facade

**AN: ACK! I meant to have this up a couple days ago, but my laptop needed a new transformer and it took a lot longer than I thought to get it sorted. Anyway, back now!**

**mrswolfie: Thanks :D Ah yes, Face's trouble is...actually, on second thoughts, I think I'll keep it to myself for the minute ;)**

**Kayley: Thanks, glad you like it :D**

**mlpsunflower: I tried replying to your PM, but it said you'd disabled them. I guess actions speak louder than words anyway, so here you go! **

**Axiana: Your wish is my command, read on ;)**

"Oh, thank god! Thank _god _someone's here!" Face took hold of Hannibal and drew him forward. "Please, you gotta help, some kids knocked this old guy down and stole his wallet. He cracked his head on the sidewalk." He turned the colonel around to display the cut on the back of his head as Exhibit A. "I was gonna take him home but he couldn't tell me where he lived. I think he may be concussed, or, I dunno, more likely he's just senile or...look, do you have a phone I can use, call for help?" He spun Hannibal around again, supporting his weight as the colonel clutched at him with a convincing groan...although there was a hidden gleam in his eyes that said a certain lieutenant was going to regret _senile_.

The men exchanged glances, and Hannibal knew full well what was going on in their minds. Face was extremely good at making people question themselves and their motives; even thugs like these wouldn't be comfortable opening fire on a young man who was just trying to play the Good Samaritan.

_Heck, any minute now they'll be offering to take us to the hospital themselves_.

One of the guards pulled out a radio unit.

"Mr Markham? We got ourselves a couple trespassers here. Apparently one of 'em's been mugged, they want to come in here and call for help...Yeah...Uh huh...Okay."

He slid the aerial back into the handset and clipped it onto his belt.

"Bring him inside."

Their escort led them into the entrance hall, which was bigger than many people's apartments, then left them with a curt, "Stay here."

Glancing around at the lavish surroundings – wide marble staircase, expensive looking pictures on the wall, thick plush carpet – and wondering just which of the small, expensive-looking little knick-knacks lying around on its each individual pedestal Markham would be least likely to miss, Face grinned.

"What'd I tell you? Piece of cake. Losing my touch...!" He snorted derisively and studied a marble figurine with a little too much interest.

"_Senile_?" Hannibal said in an undertone.

The lieutenant at least had the grace to look a little embarrassed as he answered, "Yeah, well...you're probably old enough."

"Oh, is that right? For your information, I'm not as old as you think."

"Never said you were," Face pointed out, then not quite under his breath, "Never thought you _could_ be."

Hannibal paused in his examination of Renoir's _The Bathers_ (or at least a very good copy) and turned a hard stare on Face.

"You wanna say that to me one more time, lieutenant?"

"...No."

"You sure? I mean, like you said, I'm old, I'm senile, my hearing's not so good—"

"Oh c'mon, Hannibal, that's not true." Face paused just long enough for Hannibal to see it coming, then added, "You can hear just fine."

"You're pushing your luck, kid."

"Right." Face moved up next to Hannibal to study the picture. "Is it me, or does that girl seem a little...mmm....outta proportion?"

The colonel raised his eyebrows. "I thought you liked women to be 'a little outta proportion'."

"Well, _yeah_, but the other way around!" Face turned away from the offending picture and his gaze fell on the door next to the grandfather clock. As doors went, it was quite small – Hannibal and Face would both have to duck in order to pass through it – and looked oddly out of place.

"Does that door look normal to you?"

Hannibal gave the door a long look, and Face an even longer one.

"It looks like a door, if that's what you're asking me."

"Yeah, but...shouldn't it be more ornate? You know, we got marble stairs, plush carpets, expensive pieces of art...I'd've at least expected solid gold doorhandles or something. What do you suppose is inside?"

Hannibal grinned. "I've no idea, Face. What do you say we see for ourselves?"

It turned out to be darkness. The colonel could just about make out three or four wooden steps going down before they were swallowed up by the blackness. The cool, earthy smell of a cellar wafted out and Hannibal listened, straining his ears.

Nothing. No breathing, no crying, no snoring, _nothing_. But still...they had to start their search somewhere. Maybe if they went in there and closed the door, it might fool whoever came back into thinking they'd left.

He turned to put this to Face, only to see the lieutenant was completely rigid and staring down into the darkness, face so white his lips had a bluish tinge.

"Face? _Face_!"

No response. Hannibal gripped the lieutenant's shoulder and turned him away from the door.

"Kid, look at me." He snapped his fingers a few times under Face's nose. A few seconds went by, then the lieutenant shifted his gaze to Hannibal.

"What?"

"You back with me? We have to start searching this place before Markham's pet heavies come back." Hannibal jerked his thumb over his shoulder to the open door behind him. "Let's go."

Face swallowed. "Uh...tell you what, Hannibal, why don't you, uh, why don't you check down there and I'll keep looking around up here?"

Hannibal gave him a quizzical look. "You're not afraid, are you?"

"No!" Face answered, but in the tones of one who doth protest too much. "I just...well, we'd get a lot more done if we split up."

"And if those goons get back here then I'm going to need you with me." Hannibal gestured towards the dark room again. Previous experience had taught him that Face was more than capable of sneaking away if you turned your back on him. He had no idea what had caused Face's sudden reluctance, but, callous as it sounded, he didn't have time to baby the kid along just then. "After you."

Face edged back. "Hannibal..."

"Let's _go_, lieutenant." The colonel allowed a touch of steel into his voice. "I'll be right behind you."

It was intended as reassurance, but in his current state of mind, Face took it as a threat that Hannibal would be cutting off his only line of escape if he had to bolt suddenly.

"I don't think that's a good—" he began.

"Face, we don't have time to argue about this!"

Face glanced over his shoulder, as though frightened of being overheard, then lowered his voice.

"Okay. Fine. But _you_ go first."

"Alright." Like he'd said, there wasn't time to argue. He'd just have to trust the lieutenant to follow him.

And Face did. Reluctantly, and as slowly as he dared, but he followed him. Hannibal could hear the younger man's rapid, rather shallow breathing and paused. This wasn't Face's usual reluctance to get his hands dirty; something about this place was genuinely terrifying the lieutenant out of his wits. Quite what that something was, Hannibal couldn't figure out, but still...

_What the heck, I'll let him go. He's too drunk with terror to be any use down here if things get nasty. Better get him out now before he's too far gone even for that._

Hannibal opened his mouth. "Look, Face, if you—"

That was as far as he got before the door at the top of the stairs slammed shut and plunged the entire place into blackness.

There was a clumping sound as Face took the stairs three at a time, followed by a banging as he hammered on the door. "Hey! Hey, let us out!"

Hannibal raised his eyebrows, the expression unfortunately lost in the darkness.

"Sure Face. That'll work."

Thinking back to the night before, he remembered Face mumbling something about the _dark room_. Maybe a little more light wouldn't be a bad idea.

Pulling his lighter out of his jacket, he flicked it on. The tiny flame danced in the darkness, barely illuminating more than Hannibal's face and, with a little searching, a light switch. Hannibal flicked it and a single bulb dangling from the ceiling sputtered into life. The light was erratic and partially obscured by dirt, but it was better than nothing. At least now they could see where they were locked up.

_A wine cellar_? Hannibal stared around him. He and the team had been locked up in some pretty unusual places – including a fireworks factory, which was like giving the henhouse keys to the fox – but never before in a wine cellar.

The light didn't seem to reassure Face; in fact, the only difference it made was the lieutenant gave up pounding on the door and leapt to the ground, searching the cellar for another way out.

When he was seven, Hannibal had snuck off the army base where his father was stationed and gone out for a day's exploring. He hadn't found what he was looking for (namely dinosaur bones) but one thing he had found was an Alsatian dog in a cage no more than eight foot by three. That dog had been moving and pacing around the inside of its tiny confinement in the same restless, almost frenzied way that Face was doing now.

Hannibal massaged his forehead tiredly.

_This isn't working._

"Templeton!"

Pure shock caused Face to stop mid-pace as though he'd hit a wall. Hannibal had never called him by name before; it had always been _kid_ or _lieutenant_ in the POW camp (or _Peck_ if he pissed the colonel off) until Murdock had rechristened him Faceman.

"Right." Hannibal moved in front of Face and seized his arms. "Now that I've got your attention, will you _get a grip_! Whatever's wrong with you, either tell me and let me help you through it, or keep your mouth shut and work through it by yourself, but right now we need to focus on dealing with the problem!"

Face swallowed hard, then nodded. "Sure. Okay. I'm good."

"You sure?" Hannibal didn't release him; there was a wild look in the lieutenant's eyes he didn't much like. He didn't think that Face would attack him again, but neither did he think that the younger man was under control.

"Sure I'm sure. No problem." Face pulled back and this time Hannibal let him go. "I just...I can't stand being locked up here."

"You've been locked up in plenty of places before, kid. How is that any different to this?"

"Because the _other _guys left the lights on!"

In the astonished silence, Hannibal saw Face's expression change from _so there_ to _oh crud_. He'd seen it a few times before; it usually meant that the lieutenant had said far more than he'd meant to.

"What?" Hannibal stared at him, baffled. "Face, you're not seriously trying to tell me that you're afraid of the dark!"

"No! No way. It's just...the other guys left the lights on."

Hannibal folded his arms. "Does this have something to do with that dark room you kept going on about in your sleep?"

Face went so white Hannibal thought he was going to pass out, then abruptly spun, took the stairs in two bounds and hurled his entire body against the door, which shuddered but held firm. It might not have been ornate, but that door was still a damn good door, in Hannibal's opinion. Any door that could stand up against an assault like that one deserved combat pay.

This time Hannibal didn't waste time trying to talk to the frantic lieutenant; he simply waited until the younger man's pacing brought him within arm's reach again and slapped him. He put a little more force into it than he intended (his head was still throbbing angrily where Face had slammed it onto the sidewalk) and the slap not only connected, it knocked the lieutenant off his feet.

After a minute or two, Face stood and dusted himself off. Calm. Rational. There was something unsettling about the speed with which he'd yanked his emotions back under control.

"Thanks." His voice was very quiet, almost inaudible.

"Anytime, kid. Now let's think this through." Glancing at the locked door, Hannibal added, "You got a lockpick?"

"No." Seeing Hannibal's surprise, Face added, "I didn't take one with me when I went out for my walk and you didn't exactly give me any time to pack a bag before sending me to the van."

Hannibal straightened up and jabbed a forefinger into Face's chest. "I didn't send you anywhere, lieutenant; you thought I was going to tell the others about your nightmare and you bolted. Why, I've no idea; there's nothing wrong with having a bad dream."

Face glanced around at the wine cellar, then back at Hannibal. "Are you going to tell them about...well...uh." He coughed. "You know. When you. Back in the van. Uh. And—"

"Oh, you mean when you fell asleep on watch and then tried to strangle me? I'll warn them to keep their distance when they're waking you up, if that's what you mean by telling them. I can't give them any details though, since you're still refusing to give _me_ any."

"Is that all that's stopping you?"

Hannibal met the lieutenant's gaze without flinching. "I'm not a gossip, Face."

"No." This time it was Face who looked away. "I know."

"Right." Hannibal studied him for a minute longer, then let it go. "Then let's get outta here and find this Markham guy."

Face raised his eyebrows. "Well, I'm open to suggestions, Hannibal. I mean, that's a pretty strong door up there. Believe me, I know."

That was a point. If the door had been sturdy enough to withstand Face's determined assault – and the lieutenant packed more of a punch than most people thought – it wasn't going to be easy to break down.

"Besides, we don't have to leave right now, do we?"

Hannibal glanced at Face. "Five minutes ago you were doing everything you could to bust the door down, kid."

"Hannibal." Face shook his head, a pitying expression on his face. "That was before I found _this_."

He pulled a bottle of champagne out of the racks and held it up. Hannibal stared at it for a few seconds, then chuckled.

"Nice, Face."

"Well, Krug Prestige '76...I mean, we couldn't let this go to waste, now could we? I doubt Markham even appreciates what he's got and since, you know, it's here and _we're_ here, well, might as well lubricate the Hannibal Smith wheels of thought, hmm?"

Hannibal raised his eyebrows. "The day my wheels of thought need lubrication, kid, will be the day they bury me."

"Ah." Face gestured towards the ceiling with the champagne bottle. "Well, in a way, they, uh, they have. I mean, we are underground, Hannibal, so whaddaya say? We might as well wait in comfort."

Hannibal grinned. "I say that's a very good point, Face."

A little searching turned up a corkscrew and a dusty tray of glasses, both of which Face appropriated before Hannibal had a chance to.

"I'll open it." The colonel reached out, but Face jerked away.

"No you won't! I still have nightmares about the last bottle of champagne you opened!"

"Is that what caused them?"

"Yeah, sure. Now back off and I'll open it!"

Hannibal obeyed, grinning at the memory. "C'mon Face. It wasn't that bad."

Face paused in his struggle with the cork to glare at him. "Hannibal, you bloodied the waiter's nose!"

"He took away my cigar," Hannibal retorted, in tones which said that not only was this grounds for justifiable homicide as far as he was concerned, but that he couldn't see how anyone else could fail to see it the same way.

"We were in the non-smoking section!" The cork gave with a soft _pop_, and Face poured some into both glasses. "The poor kid was just doing his job. You didn't have to fire a champagne cork at him."

"Well, maybe not," Hannibal conceded as he took his glass, his grin broadening, "but you gotta admit, Face, it was a heck of a good shot. Anyway, I got there ten minutes late, remember? How was I supposed to know it was non-smoking?" He sipped at the champagne, then raised his eyebrows. "Mmm. Kinda nutty."

"Isn't it?" Face raised his glass. "Here's to staying out of jail, Hannibal."

Hannibal returned the gesture, smiling. "And to many more encounters with our good friend Decker."

He waited until Face had finished choking before adding, "Oh, and the A-Team, of course."

"Right."

By the time they got to the end of the bottle, they'd toasted each other, Murdock, BA, Billy, Tawnia, the A-Team van, Mike the skunk and finally the hope that they'd be able to think of something else to toast by the next bottle.

"So," Face drained his glass, "you got any ideas yet?"

Hannibal raised his eyebrows. "Sure, Face. I just didn't want to tell you before we'd had a chance to finish the bottle. Head down the far end, see if you can find anything metal or heavy wood. I'll start moving the wine out of one of these racks."

"Mm-hmm." Face reached into Hannibal's jacket and pulled out the colonel's gun, smiling pleasantly. "Or you know, we _could_ just shoot the lock off."

Hannibal took the gun back and tucked it into his shoulder holster, then slung an arm around the lieutenant's shoulders, wondering if he'd imagined the younger man's sudden stiffness.

"Now, Face." He shook his head, clicking his tongue. "Where are your manners? Markham was kind and generous enough to supply us with all this equipment. Think how _hurt_ he'd be if we didn't use it to escape."

Face took hold of Hannibal's hand with the tips of his fingers and did his best to return it to its owner, while thinking that Markham was likely to be far more hurt if they _did_ use it.

"Hannibal—"

"C'mon kid." Hannibal clapped the lieutenant on the back. There was no imagining it this time; Face had definitely flinched away from his touch. "Let's get to work."

"What do you have in mind?"

Hannibal grinned broadly, and told him.

* * *

Jack Markham settled down in a leather recliner, studying the footage from the security cameras that covered his extensive wine collection, which had a market value of around half a million dollars. He was a small man, barely five foot two. Unlike many small men, he didn't resent the fact and had spent time developing what he had. Although he paid bodyguards, he was more than capable of taking out an enemy himself if he had to.

"Who are they?"

"The A-Team." Victor Holdness, who wasn't the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree but who could generally be trusted to punch anyone Markham wanted punched, had copies of the Wanted poster all over his room. It was something of an obsession for him. Bold as Markham was, he'd still never quite dared ask why.

"That there's Colonel Hannibal Smith. Leader of the gang."

Markham wasn't quite convinced that it was a good idea to describe one of the most legendary combat teams in 'Nam as a _gang_, but he let it slide. Victor obviously got a kick out of being in the know.

"Who's the guy with him?" Not that he didn't already know, but still...it paid to keep Victor sweet. Unlike most men in his position, Markham had learned very early on that if you wanted to earn and keep the respect of your men, you had to at least _pretend_ to respect them a little in return. He could never believe some of the other men he dealt with, men who felt like they had to bully and intimidate their employees as well as everyone else in their orbit. Markham's philosophy was to be firm, authoritative, but always completely fair, give credit where credit was due and make sure each and every one of his workers a decent salary. Quite apart from encouraging better work, it also helped ensure that they were far more reluctant to betray him.

"Lieutenant Templeton Peck. AKA Faceman, or Face to his friends. He's a scam artist; whatever Hannibal needs or wants, Face gets. Count your fingers after he shakes hands with you."

"Alright, but what are they doing here?" Markham was fascinated as he watched Hannibal pass half a dozen bottles to Face, who, Markham was relieved to note, treated them with the reverence they deserved. He didn't really object to their drinking one of the bottles – especially as Face at least seemed able to appreciate it – since having two members of the A-Team in his house was well

worth the cost of a vintage, but if those two started just smashing them, he'd have to send Victor in with a shotgun.

Victor didn't answer, although he was wondering the same thing. Military fugitives didn't go in for social calls. Markham didn't exploit any of his workers, he wasn't trying to steal/burn down some small family-owned business in order to put up a hotel/mall/leisure centre, and the last person he'd had badly beaten had been pushing drugs on his fourteen year old niece, and somehow he thought that the only reaction he'd get from the A-Team for _that_ would be a standing ovation. Well...an ovation, anyway.

"Should I call the hotline?" Victor asked.

"No." Markham spoke absently and Victor's face fell. "I want to speak to them."

"I'll go and—"

"No!" This time it was a lot sharper. "Heavily armed military police haven't been able to grab and contain even _one_ of these men. You'd never handle two of them by yourself." Markham settled back more comfortably. "Besides, if his reputation is anything to go by, then no doubt Hannibal Smith's been working overtime thinking of a creative way to escape. I imagine he'd be rather hurt if we spoiled it by simply opening the door for him."

* * *

"Are you sure this is gonna work?"

Hannibal paused mid-construct and put on an injured look. "Face, I'm surprised at you! You doubt my planning capabilities?"

"I just have several memories of your plans, Hannibal. They all start out original and unique, and great, sure, but they all tend to _end_ the same way: with knuckle sandwiches all round, and I don't just mean for the bad guys."

Hannibal put a hand on Face's shoulder. "Now Face. We're in a nice, stately home, this little device is a battering ram, not a weapon...what makes you think this is going to turn violent?"

The lieutenant pretended to consider for all of three seconds before answering, "Well, it's partly because someone who locks a pair of guys in his cellar isn't gonna think twice about giving them a knuckle sandwich, partly because we've gone four days without getting in a fight and we're about due for another one, but mostly because you're wearing your gloves again."

Hannibal raised his hand to admire one of the gloves in question, black leather with steel sewn into the knuckles. Not that he couldn't fight without them, of course, but any advantage in combat was always useful.

"Good point. Pass me that rack."

Face, who had spent the last ten minutes emptying and unscrewing the rack in preparation, managed to yank it out from the wall and hand it over to Hannibal.

"And the bottles."

The lieutenant balked. "Hannibal, you can't be serious! Whoever this Markham guy is, he's got some pretty rare vintages! You can't add them to this..._thing_."

Hannibal glanced down at the thing in question.

"Alright, then, see if you can find anything heavy."

He and Face had found a set of old-fashioned beer kegs tucked away at the far end, and had taken the second largest (the largest was too big even for the two of them to carry, almost big enough for a person to walk right into it) and dragged it to the foot of the stairs. A little improvising with the corkscrew had enabled them to unscrew some of the wine racks and put them together again to make a crude but strong frame. Once they'd done that, Hannibal had started taking everything else in the cellar apart to pack it into the barrel. The end result was a crude but potentially effective battering ram.

A little searching turned up a few bricks and what looked like the remains of a chair, but that was it. Groaning, Face surrendered to the inevitable and started hunting among the bottles for the least valuable vintage.

"I _still_ say we could just shoot the lock off!"

"I want to save the ammo."

Selecting a bottle of 1962 Brut, Face strolled back. "Well, we could at least have taken this barrel up the stairs _before_ we weighted it down."

"No, we need momentum." Hannibal, who didn't know a great deal about wine and cared less, grabbed three bottles at random and placed them inside the barrel.

A pained-looking Face retrieved two of them, replaced them with two presumably inferior vintages and added three more of his own. It took another thirty bottles before the barrel was full and heavy enough to work, and by then it took the combined efforts of both Face and Hannibal to lift it and haul it up the stairs.

"Ready?" Hannibal said through teeth gritted with the effort.

"For a hernia?" Face grated. "Sure, why not? I'm about overdue."

"Alright. On three. One. Two. _Three_!"

The makeshift battering ram crashed into the long-suffering door - which finally surrendered and let itself be burst open - and, since Hannibal and Face had both let go of it, continued on until it hit the far wall with a _crunch_ of splintered wood and broken glass.

"Quite ingenious."

The voice came from off to the left and both Face and Hannibal swung around, the latter drawing his gun.

"And you are?"

"Jack Markham. I was on my way down to release you when...well, you obviously pre-empted me. May I?" Markham reached out to examine what was left of the battering ram. Behind it, Face glanced at Hannibal, unsure what to do. Polite curiosity wasn't a reaction the A-Team got very often, and certainly not to one of Hannibal's plans.

"Yes, _quite_ ingenious. I have a feeling that if I locked you in an empty bunker, you'd still find something to help you escape." Markham pulled out the remains of a bottle with a single delicate move, read the label and sighed. "Yes. Though I do wish you hadn't used the '78 Rhone." There was no real anger or resentment in his voice; he sounded like a teacher grading a science project.

Hannibal, who was taken aback but not fooled, kept the gun pointed at Markham. "Chrissy Allen. Where is she?"

Markham shrugged. "There is nobody named Chrissy Allen up here."

Next to the colonel, Face raised his eyebrows. "Then you won't mind if we search the place."

The man gestured around. "Please, be my guest. The only thing I ask is that you leave this—" he indicated Hannibal's makeshift battering ram— "where it is. Many of the pieces in my home are quite valuable and very delicate, and wherever this girl may be, I promise you she has not been stuffed inside a Ming vase."

It took two hours of thorough searching before Hannibal was prepared to admit that the man was telling the truth, that Chrissy was nowhere in the mansion. The colonel couldn't even accuse him of sneaking her off while their backs were turned, since Markham had accompanied them on their search, unlocking all doors that Hannibal wanted to look through, answering each and every one of his and Face's questions with the same unfailing courtesy.

As they were shown to the door, Hannibal paused and turned. "One more question."

"Yes, colonel?"

"If you don't know anything about Chrissy Allen, then why were you so determined to stop Rita putting up those Missing posters in the store?"

Not a muscle twitched on Markham's face. "I never said I didn't know anything about her, colonel; merely that she wasn't here."

"Then where _is_ she?"

The man chuckled. "Oh, I beg your pardon, colonel, but that's two questions and I really must be getting back to work. It was a pleasure meeting you both."

He held out his hand to Hannibal, who, nonplussed, shook it automatically, then did the same to Face.

"If it's any consolation to you, gentlemen," Markham added, "wherever the girl is now, she's probably a lot better off than where she was before. Now you will, of course, forgive me for being so rude as to close the door in your faces, but I have a premonition that if I don't, you'll kick your way back into my home and I really have no more time to spare you at the moment."

He closed the door. Even that was done with an air of politeness.

Face glanced at Hannibal. "Well? What now?"

Hannibal didn't answer. He was, for one of the few times in his life, feeling at something of a loss. Guns, fistfights, intimidation...all those things he understood and could handle. Like back in the wine cellar, Markham's courtesy had taken the wind out of his sails to such a degree that he wasn't entirely sure how best to proceed.

"Hey!" Face snapped his fingers under Hannibal's nose and the colonel jumped. "Are you trying to develop X-ray vision, Hannibal, 'cause I don't think staring at this guy's front door is going to help much otherwise. Look, I say we go back and regroup, then we pay this guy another visit and see if BA can't get him to talk."

That was the problem, in Hannibal's mind. Markham _had _talked; he'd answered every single question except the last one fully and without attempting to evade or change the subject. The colonel honestly didn't know what more Markham could tell them, even with BA's influence.

_Well, he could tell us where she is, for a start_.

"I mean, let's face it, Hannibal, the only reason we thought she might be here is because Markham stopped Rita putting up those posters."

"Exactly!" That was another question Markham hadn't answered, now that Hannibal thought about it. He'd just slid out from under it in a move that was worthy of Face himself.

"Whaddaya _mean_, worthy of me? C'mon, Hannibal, that guy was an amateur and I still say we oughta sic BA on him!"

The colonel – who hadn't realised he'd voiced that last thought out loud – glanced at Face. That was another thing; maybe when they were back at the apartment he could persuade the lieutenant to open up a little.

_Yeah. Find out what's upsetting him before he loses his mind completely_, Hannibal thought as he studied Face intently.

"What?" Face's voice was as light as ever. "Did I cut myself shaving?"

That wasn't possible, Hannibal knew, as – for the first time since they'd met – the lieutenant hadn't shaved at all that morning. It wasn't so much the lightness of the tone that bothered Hannibal; it was the fact that Face had been able to yank a mask across his fear so quickly earlier on. He supposed it was one of the lieutenant's talents, but still...there was something creepy about seeing someone snap from mind-numbing terror one second to complete normal the next. Granted his slap had probably helped speed up the process, but even _so_...

"Hannibal, you're really starting to freak me out now."

Hannibal, who hadn't realised he'd been staring at Face all this time, blinked.

"Sorry kid." Jerking his head towards the van, he added, "Let's get going."

"Right." Face broke into a jog and opened the door, swinging himself into the passenger seat.

And that was it, Hannibal thought. Face's facade was smooth, polished, and if you really looked closely, you might be able to make out something lurking underneath. It was like ice on a pond.

And like ice on a pond, Hannibal had a horrible feeling that it could shatter again at any moment.

**Okay, so once again, sorry about the wait! Now that I've got my laptop back, things should be going a little faster ;) In the meantime, hope you liked this chapter and if you read, please review!**


	6. Denial

**mrswolfie: Thanks :) And Face's nightmares...you'll find out soon (Yes, I know I've been saying that for a while but this time I really mean it ;))**

* * *

The journey back passed in complete silence, both Hannibal and Face busy with their own thoughts. It wasn't until they pulled in at the apartment that Face spoke.

"He knows something."

Hannibal found this rather a surprising statement from the lieutenant, whose intelligence rivalled even his own. It was obvious that Markham knew _something_ about the missing girl; the only questions in Hannibal's mind were _what_ the man knew and, more importantly, the best way of persuading him to open up.

_And speaking of opening up_...Hannibal glanced sideways at Face, who suddenly seemed very interested in the sky, his shoes, a shop front...in fact, anything except the colonel.

Any hopes for a private talk with Face were dashed the instant Hannibal opened the front door just in time to see BA hurl an apple at Murdock's head.

"BA!"

"Hannibal, this fool been drivin' me _crazy_!"

Murdock picked up the apple, dusted it off and scrunched loudly at it. "Tha' iff not _true_, BA. I mean, c'mon—" he swallowed his mouthful and went on a little more clearly— "you'n'me, we work together okay, don't we? Don't we?"

"He spent all mornin' talkin' to that stupid dog!"

Behind Hannibal, Face groaned. "Oh no...Murdock, remember we talked about this? About leaving Billy behind?"

Murdock gave him a pained look. "But Faceman, I can't leave Billy here. I mean, suppose Decker showed up an' we had to blow town? He'd be shut up all alone here, an' he'd pine away, an' then he'd _starve_."

"Murdock..." Hannibal began wearily.

"I can't do it, colonel. I'm a responsible dog owner an' that means I gotta look after him. He's already missin' his bed in the VA hospital." Murdock crouched down, scooped Billy into his arms and straightened up again. "I mean, jus' _look_ at that little face, Faceman. You ever seen Billy look that sad before?"

In spite of the turmoil raging inside him, Face managed a wan smile. "No, Murdock, I think I can safely say that I've never seen Billy look sad at _all_."

"_Exactly_. I can't abandon him here, he needs me."

Hannibal glanced at BA. "Well, in between your little dog-walking stint, did you guys manage to find out anything?"

BA shook his head. "Folks round here say Rita and Chrissy moved in about six months ago, but that's it."

Hannibal glanced at Murdock. "How about you?"

"Well, Billy an' I found out that the square root of nine thousand and thirty one is—"

"Anything _relevant_?" Normally Hannibal was willing to play along with Murdock's fantasies and general loopiness, but worry over Face and the lack of answers at Markham's were making him short-tempered.

Murdock shut his mouth with a snap, then opened it to say in a more subdued tone, "Not really, colonel, no."

"So we're no further forward than we were yesterday." Face poured out a mug of coffee, drank it down and promptly made himself another cup.

"Except we know that she's definitely not in his mansion." There was too much about this that didn't add up for Hannibal's liking. Markham had all but admitted that he knew where Chrissy Allen was, yet she hadn't been in his home (along with Face, the colonel had not only gone into every single room, but taken every painting off every wall, opened every closet and examined every inch for hidden rooms as well).

"What about the business trip?" Face offered, from where he was now just finishing his third coffee.

Hannibal's frown deepened. It was no surprise to him that Face was apparently able to read his mind; the two of them had always been on the same wavelength.

"You think he might have taken her out of Sacheton?"

"It's a possibility." Face gulped down his fourth coffee, found the coffee maker was empty, and went about refilling it.

"Just what kinda business is this guy in, Hannibal?"

Hannibal shook his head. "I don't know, BA, but I'm beginning to get a nasty idea."

Murdock grinned and put Billy down again. "All your ideas are nasty, colonel, that's how come the bad guys hate 'em so much."

Hannibal looked at Murdock and BA levelly. "What's the biggest illegal earner in the United States? In the _world_, even?"

BA shrugged. "I dunno. Drugs?"

"Ooh, ooh, I know, I know!" Murdock's hand shot up, clipping BA on the ear. "Me! Me! Pick me!"

In spite of himself, Hannibal grinned. "Yes. Murdock."

"Gambling!"

"No."

"_Aww_..."

"Face?" Hannibal glanced at the lieutenant, who was watching the coffee maker with predatory interest. "You wanna take a guess?"

"Why should I? I mean, you already know and you're gonna tell us anyway." Face whacked the side of the coffee maker. "C'mon! How long does this thing take?"

"There's a jar of instant in the cupboard," Hannibal told him.

"Really?" The lieutenant abandoned the coffee maker, pulled open the cupboard and grabbed the jar of instant. This only partly solved the problem, however, as Face's impatience was now transferred to the kettle, which was boiling far too slowly for his liking.

Abandoning the lieutenant for the minute, Hannibal returned his attention to BA and Murdock.

"What about sex?"

Murdock put a pleading expression on his face. "Aw, colonel, can't we just be friends?"

"Hannibal, if everyone got paid for sex, Faceman'd be the richest guy on the planet."

Face spun around so fast he had to steady himself with one hand on the counter. "_Shut up_! Just...shut up, okay?"

In the ringing silence that followed, Murdock said, "Colonel, are you sayin' that this Markham guy's runnin' some kinda prostitution ring?"

"Exactly. He takes a pretty young girl like Chrissy, then ships her out to the highest bidder." Hannibal sat down on the couch, a grim expression on his face. "Which means she could quite literally be anywhere."

Face slammed his latest mug down on the counter. Hot coffee splashed over the rim and Hannibal was never quite sure how the lieutenant managed to escape being scalded.

"You don't know that, Hannibal!"

"Well, if you have any better theories, I'd like to hear them, lieutenant!" There was a hard edge in Hannibal's voice which he tried to excuse by saying he'd been startled by Face's reaction, but which he really knew was down to the fact that he wasn't used to having Face challenge his ideas and opinions quite so openly.

"I didn't say I had any better theories. I just think that you can't go around accusing a guy of being a grand-scale pimp just because we _didn't_ find a missing kid in his place, especially when we got no evidence that he was involved in her disappearance!"

Put like that, Hannibal could see his point.

"Alright, kid. What would you suggest?"

"I don't know! Just...I don't know. Maybe we should just forget this whole Chrissy Allen thing!"

"_What_?" The word came from three mouths simultaneously, in identical tones of incredulity.

"Face, whatever's happened to her, she's still missing!"

"_I know_! I know! I know, alright?"

"Uh...Face?" Crossing the room, Hannibal put a hand over the lieutenant's newly refilled mug and pushed it down to the counter again. "I think that you've had enough caffeine for the minute, don't you?"

Face considered. "Gee, I don't know, Hannibal, I mean, I've only had about three or four cups."

"Three _or_ four?"

"Okay, eight! What does it matter?"

Lowering his voice, Hannibal said, "If I didn't know better, kid, I'd say you were scared of falling asleep."

"Mm. Well, Hannibal, it's a good thing you _do_ know better, isn't it?" Face retrieved his coffee mug from under the colonel's hand, drained the contents in a few swallows and reached out to refill it.

This time Hannibal caught hold of Face's wrist. "Face, seriously, don't you think you've had enough?"

"No, you'll know I've had enough when I start to vibrate on the spot and sing songs at the top of my lungs!"

"Would those be Brenda Lee songs, by any chance?"

Face went very still for a few seconds. "That's not funny, Hannibal."

"It wasn't meant to be." As Hannibal watched, Face dropped three spoonfuls of sugar into the mug, examined it, then added two more.

The colonel raised his eyebrows. "You want some coffee in your sugar, lieutenant?"

"Funny." Face added the now tepid contents of the coffee maker, gulped the result down and grimaced at the taste.

"Sugar...caffeine...you wouldn't be trying to give yourself a little energy boost, would you, lieutenant?"

"Yeah, well, I didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

"That's not what you said at breakfast," Hannibal couldn't resist pointing out. "As I recall, your exact words were, _Fine, great, couldn't be better_."

"I think you're missing a small detail here, Hannibal."

"What's that?"

He'd been prepared for a comment from Face along the lines of _my life is none of your damn business_ and was considerably surprised, and a little uneasy, when Face said, "Markham knew who we were. What do you wanna bet that he picked up the phone to Decker the second we were outta his house?"

"We can handle Decker, Face."

"I hope that was a royal _we_."

"I heard that." All the same, Hannibal thought it would be a good idea to post a lookout that night, and every night they were in that apartment.

He'd expected strong opposition to this idea from Face – who hated sentry duty with a passion – but to his surprise the lieutenant grabbed the idea with both hands and volunteered to take first watch that night.

Since both BA and Murdock seemed very interested in the ceiling and floor respectively, and since Hannibal himself wasn't exactly in love with the idea of taking first watch himself, the colonel shrugged and said, "Alright; I'll relieve you." Certainly with the amount of caffeine Face had been pumping into his system, there was very little danger of the lieutenant falling asleep on watch...

* * *

The dawn sunlight streamed through the crack in the curtains and right into Hannibal's eyes. He frowned, mumbled something under his breath, and when neither of those things made it go away, sat up groggily and tilted the alarm clock towards him.

_Seven fifteen? What...?_

He checked it more closely, discovering that the alarm had been unset at some point.

_No prizes for guessing who by,_ Hannibal thought as he shifted his gaze to Face's bed, which was neatly made and hadn't been slept in.

_The kid snuck in here and turned off my alarm. Why?_

He'd been half kidding when he'd said Face was scared to fall asleep. Now, though, he wondered if that hadn't been a lot closer to the truth than he'd realised. Apart from the face that the lieutenant had drunk an entire coffee plantation in one day, he _never_ volunteered to take first shift on night watch.

Hannibal got to his feet and padded through into the lounge. Face had dragged the armchair over to the window overlooking the street and was sitting in it, holding a mug in one hand. The jar of coffee they'd bought two days ago was sitting on the counter and almost empty, and the smell of stale caffeine hung in the air.

"Face?"

The lieutenant half turned and Hannibal recoiled. Face's eyes were bloodshot and there were ugly dark hollows under his eyes. There was a ragged air about him, the air of a man who was prepared to drive himself until he literally dropped.

Hannibal pulled out the chair opposite and sat down slowly. He was shocked, and it showed.

"Damn, kid, you look like death warmed over. Why didn't you wake me?"

Face returned his gaze to the window. "Well, you looked so calm and peaceful, Hannibal. I didn't like to disturb you." Exhaustion made his voice dull, monotone.

"That never stopped you before." Face was usually only too happy to be relieved on night watch; in fact, it had taken a few stern words for the lieutenant to get the message that when Hannibal said he wanted waking at two thirty, he did _not_ mean one fifteen.

When Face didn't seem inclined to argue, Hannibal pressed the point. "You're falling apart, kid. You're not sleeping and when you _do_, you try and beat the hell out of whoever wakes you up."

The lieutenant started to his feet, but Hannibal caught hold of his arm.

"Talk to me, Face. Please."

"_For the last damn time, Hannibal, there is nothing to talk about_!" Face stared at him, his expression daring the colonel to call him out as the air between them crackled with tension.

Hannibal stared back, watching him, _willing_ him to break the silence that had descended. He and Face had been at odds before, but not seriously, not since Vietnam.

After a few minutes had gone by without Face budging, Hannibal sighed.

"Alright. Go get some sleep, kid. I'll take over the watch."

"No." There was no defiance in Face's answer, just a flatness which said he would change his mind when the earth stopped spinning, and not a minute before.

Hannibal allowed the barest hint of steel into his own voice. "That's an order, lieutenant."

"I don't need to sleep. I'm fine."

"Face, you had no sleep last night and about three hours the night before."

Face managed a smile, although it was a poor imitation of his usual one. "Yeah, well, I'm fine."

"Stop saying that, kid! You're not fine, you're as far away from fine as I've ever seen you. If you still want to keep it to yourself, then that's okay for now, but you can't pretend you don't need some rest."

The lieutenant opened his mouth, closed it again, then said, "Maybe you're right. Yeah. I'll get an early night."

Hannibal smiled. "Alright." Nodding towards Face's empty mug, he added, "You want a refill?"

"Sure." Face held out his mug, not looking away from the window until Hannibal brought back two mugs, one for him and one for Face. The lieutenant took his, but instead of drinking it examined it with a suspicious air.

"Hannibal, you didn't put anything in this, did you?"

"What? No. It's just coffee." Hannibal took a drink out of his own mug. "You really need to get some sleep, kid; you're starting to get paranoid."

Face gave him a look. "Two minutes ago you wanted me to get some rest. Now you're offering me a cup of coffee?" He raised his eyebrows. "Is that really a coincidence?"

Hannibal didn't answer, just waited until the lieutenant had drunk the coffee and slumped into unconsciousness before saying, "No."

He waited a few minutes to be sure Face really was out cold, then hauled the lieutenant up, carried him through into their room and deposited him on top of the bed.

"Sleep tight, kid."

* * *

The scream echoed through the apartment, causing Hannibal to drop his cigar. Across the room, BA and Murdock exchanged looks, for once thinking the same thing.

_What the hell was that_?

The door to the bedroom opened and Face walked through, complexion grey even under his perfect tan. He didn't acknowledge the rest of the team, didn't so much as look around or give any indication that he knew they were there, but calmly walked into the bathroom and shut the door.

Seconds later, they heard the sound of heavy vomiting followed by the toilet flushing. There was a pause while Face brushed his teeth – old habits died hard – and then the bathroom door opened and the lieutenant emerged.

Crossing the room, he took Hannibal's paper out of its owner's unresisting hands, then walked through into his bedroom and shut the door softly behind him. A peculiar grinding sound came from within, then all was quiet again.

"Face?" Hannibal got to his feet and followed the lieutenant, stopping just outside his room. There was something about that closed door that discouraged even him. If a door could turn its back, it would look something like that. "You okay?"

There was no response. Hannibal tried the door, which opened an inch or two before hitting something solid and stopping.

The grinding sound. Face barricading himself inside. Now Hannibal really was worried. The lieutenant was a social animal, always wanting to be in the thick of things. That he'd not only taken himself off on his own but gone to such extreme lengths to ensure he stayed that way...

"Open this door, lieutenant!"

Silence.

"You want me to break it down, Hannibal?"

"No." Hannibal spoke absently, mind busy turning this problem over. Much as he wanted to get to the bottom of this, he found he couldn't bring himself to invade Face's privacy quite so violently. "No, let's leave him for a while. After throwing up like that, he might just want to lie down."

"That don't explain why he blocked the door."

No, it didn't, Hannibal admitted to himself, but all he said to BA was, "Maybe he thought he'd throw up again."

BA gave Hannibal the kind of look he usually reserved for Murdock. "Yeah, right. Hannibal, if he thought he was gonna throw up again, he'd wanna make it easier to get to the bathroom, not harder!"

"I'm sure he'll be fine."

The look went up a few hundred degrees. "I ain't stupid, Hannibal! Faceman been actin' weird ever since we got here!"

Hard on the heels of the sergeant's comment came another, a memory of something Face had said to him back in the POW camp.

_How long are you going to keep up this sick little charade, Smith_?

How long indeed? Hannibal didn't know why he was so intent on defending Face, especially not when BA and Murdock had seen the lieutenant snap at him.

However long it was, it seemed Face was determined to keep it up for a good deal longer. The lieutenant refused to answer any of the Team, much less open the door, until Hannibal said they were going into town to ask around and get a bite to eat. Even then, the only response he got was a curt, "Fine, go on without me," delivered through a closed door.

_If he hasn't come out by the time we get back, forget BA; I'll kick the damn door down myself_, Hannibal thought grimly. He'd made enough allowances for Face. Now it was time the lieutenant started giving something back.

There was still no sign of life from Face's room when the Team got back in the early evening. Hannibal started towards it, but Murdock got there first.

"Yo Faceman! It's Murdock. You okay in there?"

No answer.

"Thought you might be hungry." Murdock held up the bag in his hand with a broad grin, as though Face could somehow see it through the door. "We brought you some brownies!"

"Shut up, fool! Guy don't wanna eat that stuff!"

Lowering his voice, Murdock retorted, "Well, he's gotta eat _somethin_', BA, an' I don't see _you_ comin' up with any food!" Turning back to the door, he added in a sing-song, "Fa-ace? You don't come out here, I'm gonna give your brownies to Bi-lly..."

Silence.

"Maybe he's asleep." The fact that BA hadn't protested Murdock's mentioning Billy told the others just how worried he was.

"How can he be asleep, big guy? It's only seven thirty!" Murdock rooted around in the bag and extracted a brownie, examined it from all angles for miniature lemmings, then munched at it thoughtfully.

"I don't like it." Hannibal's voice was more serious than the other two had ever heard it. "Break the door down, BA."

The sergeant threw his shoulder against the bedroom door, which burst its hinges and flew a good three feet into the room, BA close behind it.

"I guess Faceman took out the barricade," Murdock commented.

It wasn't the only thing Face had taken out, Hannibal thought as he looked around. The room hadn't just been wrecked, it had been devastated. The curtains had been torn from the window with such force that the curtain pole was dangling at one end and the closet doors had been ripped from their hinges and hurled across the room. One had even broken in half.

There was no sign of Face.

Picking himself up from the floor, BA looked around.

"You think he was kidnapped?"

Hannibal shook his head. "No. The windows would be broken, and we'd know if anyone had come in through the front door. I think Face did this himself after we left."

"Man's gone nuts, Hannibal. He's crazier than Murdock."

Staring at the chaos around them, Hannibal was beginning to agree.

"What—"

The harsh jangling of the phone cut him off, making him jump into the bargain.

_Dear god, if this doesn't get sorted out soon I'm going to be an even bigger nervous wreck than Face is_, Hannibal thought savagely as he strode through into the lounge and snatched up the receiver. If that was Face, then the lieutenant was about to get the biggest bawling out he'd ever experienced.

"Hello?"

His face fell and he stared at the receiver, voice quiet. "Yes. Alright. I'll be right there."

Murdock poked his head out of the ruined bedroom. "Somethin' wrong, colonel?"

Hannibal put the phone down slowly and turned. He felt oddly detached, as though watching events through someone else's eyes.

"It's Face. He's been arrested."

* * *

**And...another one done. I did consider carrying on (and wrote a large chunk of what happens next) but then I thought, how could I **_**not**_** leave it here ;) Anyway, more will be along soon. ****In the meantime, hope you liked this one and if you read, please review!**


	7. Confrontation

**Axiana:** **Thanks :) And here, one update to tie (some) loose ends together ;)**

* * *

By the time Hannibal had left the apartment, tried to get into the van, gone back to get the keys from BA, started the van, stopped it again at three separate red lights and two intersections, found a place to park and strode into the prison, he was about ready to kill, if not Face, then any officer stupid enough to try and arrest him too.

"I'm Hannibal Smith, here for Templeton Peck. Where is he?"

The deputy got to his feet. "Follow me."

He led Hannibal through a door into a smaller room, this one containing the holding cells. Face was sitting on the cot in one of these, staring at nothing. He hadn't even looked up as the door opened.

"What's he been charged with?" Hannibal asked, not bothering to keep his voice down.

"Assault, breaking and entering and resisting arrest. We had to threaten to shoot him before he'd let us bring him in here. Guy was carrying on like a madman."

"_Breaking and entering_?"

Assault he could believe; if the lieutenant had fallen asleep and someone had woken him up...well, if Face could attack _Hannibal_ under those circumstances, the colonel had no trouble believing he'd have gone for some unlucky passer by.

And Face was a soldier, just like the rest of them. People tended to forget it under the lieutenant's love of fine things, but he was still well-trained in hand-to-hand combat. Hannibal had seen to that himself. An ordinary civilian wouldn't have stood a chance.

_But breaking and entering...I'm going to kill him. I'm going to take this guy's gun, point it at Face's head and blow out what's left of his brains!_

"He was caught trying to break into Mr Markham's house."

Hannibal closed his eyes. "Oh dear god..."

"Yeah. Mr Markham said he didn't want to take it any further, but he said we were only to release him into your custody."

_So Markham's got the local law enforcement on his payroll too. _Although Hannibal had no time for crooked cops, he had to admit that in this case, they'd proven to be very useful.

"Let him out."

The deputy stepped forward and unlocked the cell door. "Are you going to—"

"I'll get him out your way, don't worry about that. And I'll see to it this doesn't happen again." Hannibal waited until the man was out of earshot, then stepped into the cell and stood over the lieutenant, arms folded.

"Face."

Face glanced up at him, then looked away again, no expression on his face. Infuriated at the lack of response, Hannibal seized the lieutenant's arm and hauled him upright.

"Get up!"

Face gripped the colonel's shirt and yanked him forward. He still didn't speak, but the message in his eyes was unmistakable: _do that again and you're a dead man. _The lieutenant had always been extremely good at communicating without words.

Hannibal stared back, unintimidated. "Stand down, lieutenant."

Face shifted his weight and raised his eyebrows. Hannibal, rightly interpreting this as _Or what?_ didn't hesitate before bringing his knee up into Face's groin. He didn't put a lot of force into it – it was a warning, nothing more – but it did the trick; the lieutenant dropped his hands and backed off rapidly.

"Move it. We're going back, and I want every speck of dirt in that master bedroom cleaned up or there'll be hell to pay."

Face laughed, a low, bitter sound that sent a chill down Hannibal's spine and managed to convey the thought that the lieutenant was already paying hell with interest, and he didn't think that there was anything the colonel could do to make it worse.

_And damn if I don't think he's right_, Hannibal thought as he studied the younger man. Even in the POW camp when Face had burrowed into his shell, he'd still been rational. Hurt, furious and directing his silent hatred at BA and Hannibal (mostly Hannibal), but he'd known exactly what he was doing.

"Did I say something funny, lieutenant?"

Face stopped laughing at that, but the grin was still on his face as he stared at Hannibal. The colonel was far too experienced to let any trace of the unease he felt show on his face, but something about the lieutenant's silent grin was freaking him out. Big time.

"Get that smirk off your face, and _move_ it!" was all he said.

Face obeyed both commands without a murmur, preceding Hannibal outside and into the van.

As soon as they were both in, the colonel slammed the doors and locked them.

"Start talking, lieutenant."

Face glanced at him, then looked away again. Hannibal hardened his voice.

"That was an _order_."

"I got nothing to say."

"We're not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on with you, Face."

The lieutenant shrugged. "Okay." Unfastening his seatbelt, he added, "I guess I better get comfortable then."

_Like I didn't see that one coming_, Hannibal thought grimly. People often didn't credit Face with being stubborn, since he was usually so laid back and easy going, but Hannibal knew better. Whenever he and Face seriously locked horns (which, thank god, wasn't often) it was a classic case of the irresistible force meeting the immovable object, and although the colonel had never lost a battle of wills between them, the lieutenant was more than capable of holding his own for a long, long time.

"Alright, kid, I'll rephrase that. If you don't tell me exactly _why_ you tried to break into Markham's home, I'll force-feed you enough sleeping drugs to put you into a damn coma!"

Face's head snapped around to stare at Hannibal. He held the colonel's gaze for a long time, then smiled.

"No. No way. No, Hannibal, you're bluffing."

"_Try me, lieutenant_."

For a moment he thought Face might be stupid enough to do just that, then the lieutenant looked away again.

"Not here."

"Alright; where?"

"Back at the apartment."

Hannibal wasn't fooled. Face had no intention of confiding in him; instead he'd use the journey to think up another way to wriggle out of answering.

"Back at the apartment, huh?"

"Abso_lute_ly." Face smiled broadly. "Promise."

Again, Hannibal knew the lieutenant well enough not to be fooled, but he also knew him well enough to know there was no way he could wait Face out unless he planned to sit in the van for about a fortnight.

"Alright. Let's go."

Face was silent during the ten-minute drive back to the apartment, and once they were inside Hannibal was only just quick enough to stop him heading into the master bedroom.

"Where do you think you're going? You. Me. Explanation. Remember?"

"Ah, but I also remember you telling me to clean up the mess I made, Hannibal." Pasting an innocent expression on his face, the lieutenant spread his hands to the side. "I'm just following orders."

It says a lot for Hannibal's frustration that he had an urge to hit Face, and _hard_ at that. Some of that must have been visible in his expression; Face drew back, suddenly not quite so sure of himself.

"You have fifteen minutes, lieutenant."

Something convinced Face not to argue or try to barter; instead he simply said, "Right," and ducked inside, closing the newly repaired door behind him.

Quarter of an hour later, Hannibal had to admit he was impressed. Most of the mess had been cleared, the curtains repaired as best they could and the bed made with military precision. There was nothing Face could do about the busted closet door, but he had at least stashed it inside the closet and out of sight. The work seemed to have calmed him down, although there was still an unsettled look in his eye.

As he started to close the door again, Hannibal put his hand on it.

"No you don't."

"What? Don't what?"

"After your little redecorating stunt, lieutenant, the door stays open, and the window—" Hannibal crossed the room, turned the key and pocketed it— "stays locked."

Face snorted. "What now, Hannibal? You worried I'm gonna throw myself out it? Huh?"

Hannibal met the younger man's gaze evenly. "Should I be?"

"_No_!"

"Don't play the victim with me, kid. You've been acting crazier than Murdock these past couple of days, especially in that cell! I don't know what's wrong with you, but—"

Face whirled, eyes blazing. "The only thing that's _wrong_, Hannibal, is you breathing down my neck every second! I mean, all this constant surveillance, don't you think it's enough to drive _anybody_ crazy?"

There was a hot, angry silence.

"It. Was. A. _Song_. It was just a song, it was a song I didn't like and so I asked you nicely if you would mind turning it off. If I'd known you were going to act like this, I'd have kept my mouth shut and listened to the damn thing!" Face pulled open the door only to have Hannibal slam it shut again.

"No, Face, you didn't ask me nicely if I'd mind turning it off, you screamed at me to do it and when I wasn't fast enough, you did your best to trash the radio completely! That's not like you. We get locked up and you start screaming your lungs out. That's _really_ not like you. And on top of all that, you start having nightmares that have now gotten so bad you're afraid to go to sleep!"

"That's crazy. I only had one."

Hannibal met his gaze without flinching. "You fell asleep in the van."

"I did not! I just...I dozed off."

"Whatever you did, kid, you had another one of those dreams, only this time you tried to strangle me at the end of it—"

"I _said_ I was sorry!"

"—and you forced yourself to stay awake for the next twenty four hours until I had to drug you into sleep, and then you screamed the place down. And _then_ you went and got yourself arrested!"

Face kicked open the door leading into the lounge and stalked through it, Hannibal right behind him, still talking.

"Now you're refusing to go to sleep _and_ you barricaded the bedroom door!"

Face swept his arm across the breakfast bar, sending plates and glasses crashing to the floor, fragments pinwheeling through the air.

"Well, _maybe_ I just wanted some insurance against the son of a bitch who knocked me out!"

There was a long, long silence, then Hannibal said quietly, "I'll forget you said that, kid."

Face at least had the grace to look ashamed of himself. "You shouldn't have drugged me, Hannibal."

"If you'd done what I said and got some rest, I wouldn't have had to."

"Did it never occur to you that maybe I had some kind of _reason_ for saying no?"

"You're frightened of the nightmares, kid—"

"_I am not_!"

Hannibal regarded the tormented younger man for a few seconds before saying, "Well, I find it pretty hard to understand why else you'd be so scared to go to sleep. Then again, Face, I'm finding it pretty hard to understand _anything_ about you these days."

Silence. Hannibal sighed.

"Kid, I'm sorry I had to do what I did, but I couldn't sit back and watch you burn yourself out. You know, you're really starting to scare me."

Face glanced up at the colonel. "I can't see why."

"_Why_? _Why_ is because you've been screaming yourself awake these past few days. _Why_ is because when I woke you in the van, you tried to beat me to a pulp. _Why_ is because you freaked out when Markham locked us in that cellar. _Why_ is because you've now moved on from screaming yourself awake to screaming yourself awake and throwing up what sounds like everything you've ever eaten. Have I missed anything out?"

The lieutenant stared at him in silence for a minute, then turned and strode towards the door.

"I don't have to listen to this."

"Yes you do!" Hannibal overtook Face to stand between him and the door. "I've been damn easy on you up until now, kid, and so far I've been getting nothing in return! Now whatever's wrong with you, it's got you breaking and entering for no reason!"

"Outta my way, Hannibal." There was a dangerous tone in Face's voice, but the colonel didn't move.

"Oh no. No, you're not going anywhere, lieutenant, not until we sort this out!" Meeting Face's angry expression without flinching, Hannibal continued in a quieter tone. "Face, whatever's going on, you can't deal with it alone. C'mon kid. Talk to me. Please."

"There's nothing to talk about. Just leave me _alone_!"

He turned away, but Hannibal lunged and caught hold of his shirt, spinning him back around.

"You know, kid, that's all I've been hearing from you lately. Butt out, leave me alone, I can handle this. Well, I tried that and look where it's got us!"

"I'd hardly call drugging me _butting out_, Hannibal!" Face tried to break free, but Hannibal's grip was too strong.

"I said I wouldn't try and force myself into your confidence, Face. That _doesn't_ mean I'm not going to look out for you, since you don't seem inclined to look out for yourself."

Face yanked back. "Well, it damn well _should_!"

"Face, you are going to be no good to me or the Team until we get this sorted out."

Face let out a short, bitter laugh. "Right, Hannibal! All for the Team, huh? And there was me starting to believe you were worried about me because you cared."

He started to push past, but Hannibal gripped his arm tightly above the elbow.

"_Don't_ try and twist this around on me, lieutenant. You know damn well I care about you, even if you're too scared to admit it!"

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Hannibal knew he'd blown it. There was no way Face would risk opening up to him now.

_In that case, I might as well stop dancing around and ask him outright._

"Face, what happened to you in the dark room?"

The response was electric: Face spun so fast he almost fell.

"What makes you think something happened to me?"

"Oh, don't play this game now, kid! I know _something_ happened to you; I want to know what."

"_Nothing. Happened_." Face fumbled behind him, pulling open a drawer and feeling inside until he found a knife and yanked it out. Not a large one, but a sharp one, and more than capable of doing serious damage.

There was a long, long silence.

"Are you going to use that, Face?" Hannibal kept his voice very quiet, body language as non-threatening as possible. Not because he was afraid – while Face wasn't an opponent to take lightly, Hannibal was confident he would win any real fight between them – but because he didn't want it to come to that.

"Leave...me..._alone_." Face's voice was just as quiet, but there was a tremor in it that Hannibal's lacked. He wasn't ordering the colonel anymore; he was pleading with him. "_Please_. I got this, Hannibal. I can handle it."

Hannibal shook his head slowly as he moved towards him. Face tensed, but didn't resist as the colonel took the knife out of his hand and placed it on the side.

"Face, none of us believe that anymore, least of all me. Whatever it is, it's turned you into a nervous wreck. You're jumping at shadows, you're picking fights with complete strangers—"

"I didn't pick a fight with him, Hannibal, I dozed off in the park and he shook me awake. End of discussion."

It was as though they'd never left the POW camp. Hannibal couldn't remember how many times he'd had similar encounters with Face, the young lieutenant throwing up walls against every topic of conversation Hannibal broached...at least, every topic that had to do with Face himself.

_Except he was a lot younger then._ Even so, it had taken every iota of willpower and patience Hannibal could summon – and then some – before he'd been able to convince Face to even _consider_ trusting him.

Unlike then, however, this time Hannibal had an odd feeling that Face _wanted_ to confide in him, he was just...scared. Scared of how Hannibal would react to whatever it was he had to say.

_Which means it's a lot worse than any of the experiences or incidents he told me about while we were in the POW camp._

Hannibal felt a slight twitch down his spine. He hoped he was wrong. He hoped he was wrong because if he _wasn't_, then whatever happened to Face had been particularly grim.

Watching the lieutenant, Hannibal frowned, trying to work it out. He'd assumed that Face was acting the way he was because of something that had been done to him. Now, though, he was beginning to wonder. The younger man's unwillingness to talk was extreme even by normal Face standards.

Perhaps the lieutenant was afraid of Hannibal's reaction not to something that had been done to him, but something he himself had done.

Was it really just fear that was making him act this way, or a guilty conscience?

"Face, you're still a member of the Team. Nothing you say is gonna change that."

Face glanced at him, then sat down on the couch and buried his face in his hands, so tense he was quivering all over.

Hannibal hesitated, then settled next to him and put a hand on Face's shoulder. He did so rather warily; he wasn't sure how the lieutenant would react, and didn't much fancy getting his head slammed into the ground a second time.

"Kid..."

Face's hand shot up and seized Hannibal's wrist so fast it was a blur. It wasn't an attack, the colonel could see that, even though the younger man's grip was so tight Hannibal could feel the bones grinding together. The lieutenant was clinging to him like a drowning man grabbing a lifesaver, and it scared Hannibal a little. Face had only sought comfort from him like this once before, when they'd been told that Murdock had had a nervous breakdown and was on the next flight back to America. Losing his closest friend – even to a VA hospital – had shattered Face's world, and Hannibal still had a vivid memory of the young lieutenant crying himself to sleep practically in his arms.

_Almost there. Just give it another few seconds...c'mon kid, I know you can do it._

Face took a long, deep breath, then another.

"Hannibal, I..." He broke off.

"It's okay, kid. Take all the time you—" Hannibal started to say _need_, but was cut off as the door to the lounge opened.

It really was amazing how fast Face could regain his composure, Hannibal thought bitterly. Before the door was halfway open the lieutenant had leapt out from under his hand as though it were red-hot, and by the time BA walked in, Face was on the other side of the room, sitting on the couch and pretending to read the newspaper.

"Hey Hannibal! You seen—"

"_Not now, sergeant_!"

He could have saved his breath, though, since the moment was gone.

_Yeah. Subject closed, doors slammed, locked and barricaded. Thanks a lot, BA._

Granted the sergeant hadn't realised what he was doing, nor had Hannibal thought to tell him or Murdock not to disturb them, and he _was_ an extremely valuable member of the Team, and an outstanding driver and mechanic...but still, even taking all those things into account, Hannibal could quite cheerfully have strangled him.

"Face—"

"Hm? What, Hannibal?" The lieutenant looked up from his paper, fixing Hannibal with an expression of bright, keen attention.

_God. Damn. It._ Knowing Face as he did, Hannibal knew the kid would be ten times as hard to get through to now. Not because he doubted the colonel's motives but because he'd almost slipped up once and he wasn't about to risk doing so a second time.

_Maybe if I can get him on his own again..._not that Face wouldn't be expecting that, Hannibal knew. The colonel was willing to bet his entire bank balance that Face would suddenly develop a hankering for Murdock or BA's company, and there was no way Hannibal would be able to dismiss either of them without putting Face straight onto red alert.

Leaning back, Hannibal sighed. If this went on much longer, it was a toss-up as to who would snap under the pressure first; him or Face.

* * *

The insistent ringing of the phone dragged Hannibal out of a sound sleep. Mumbling under his breath, the colonel got to his feet and stumbled through into the lounge, reaching it a split second after Murdock.

"Hello ba-_by_! You reached the Employment Agency for ghoulies, ghosties, long-leggity beasties _a-a-and_ things that go bump in the night. Please leave your message after the dial tone an' we'll get _right _on back to ya with all your hauntin' needs! Alternatively, if you are a ghoulie, ghostie, long-leggity beastie or thing that goes bump in the night an' you _are_ seekin' employment, please send your resume along to our head office and we'll get _right_ back to you too! Buh-bye now!"

Hannibal managed to field the receiver before Murdock could put it down and brought it up to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Colonel Smith?"

The voice was vaguely familiar. It also lacked the shell-shocked quality possessed by most people unlucky enough to have had a close encounter of the Murdock kind, and Hannibal tensed.

"Who is this?"

"Jack Markham. I am sorry to disturb you at this late hour—" and that at least had the ring of truth— "but I feel it only fair to tell you that tomorrow morning, at seven am precisely, I will be telephoning Colonel Decker and letting him know where you are."

Hannibal blinked, staring at the receiver. "Well...why are you telling me that _now_?"

A genteel sigh. "Because, colonel, I believe you're innocent. I believed it even when I first heard about your alleged crime in Vietnam, and whatever my failings, I am a fair man, and I don't want to see you arrested for something you didn't do." A slight edge crept into his voice. "But I can't sit by while your lieutenant keeps trying to break into my home."

"_What_?"

"I do understand, of course, that he is looking for the missing girl, and as such I can only commend his intentions. However, I cannot allow these intrusions to continue. I had your lieutenant escorted from the grounds and I imagine he is on his way back to you as we speak. Should he try again, I might be forced to make that call a little earlier. I am sure you will agree that I have been exceedingly tolerant so far, but my patience has its limits."

Damn it all, the man was right, Hannibal thought savagely. And damn Face as well!

"Alright. Yeah. I understand. I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."

"Thank you, colonel. Good night."

Before Hannibal had time to answer, Markham had hung up. Even on the other side of town, the colonel could see him doing so gently, politely.

Hannibal, on the other hand, was neither gentle nor polite; he crashed the receiver down and swore viciously, then turned to Murdock and a still groggy BA.

"Murdock, take BA outside, will you? I want to talk to Face alone, when he gets back from Markham."

"This crazy fool ain't takin' me _nowhere_, Hannibal!"

"BA, I don't _care_ who takes who, just both of you _get out_!" Glancing at the phone, Hannibal added, "And stay away from Markham's place."

"Well...colonel, how long we gotta stay out?" Murdock asked, a plaintive note in his voice.

Hannibal looked at him, then up at the light. "Stay outta sight but keep an eye on this window. I'll turn the light out when I'm done."

Without waiting to see if his order was obeyed, he strode over to the window in question and looked out, scanning the lit streets for some sign of Face.

Nothing. Hannibal had no idea whether Markham was having one of his people drive Face back or if he'd simply kicked the lieutenant out and left him to walk home. If it was the latter, considering Markham's house was five miles away, Hannibal thought rather sourly that he was in for quite a wait.

A few minutes later, he heard the front door open and shut as BA and Murdock left. Moving back from the window, rightly suspecting that Face would be far less likely to come in if he saw Hannibal waiting for him.

At least forty minutes had gone by before Hannibal heard the door open and close again. He waited until he heard the door to the master bedroom open before saying, "Lieutenant."

There was a sudden silence, followed by the tiniest of sounds as Face attempted to sneak into the relative sanctuary of the bedroom.

"_Lieutenant_." This time Hannibal made it an order. Seconds later a reluctant Face appeared, hovering in the doorway.

"Uh...hi Hannibal."

The colonel got to his feet. "You have got some serious explaining to do, Face."

Face glanced around. "Where're Murdock and BA?"

"Not here, and don't try and change the subject. What the hell did you think you were doing?"

"I don't have time for this, Hannibal." The lieutenant strode into the kitchen, pouring out a glass of orange juice and downing it in one long swallow, then refilled it. "I'm tired. I'm going to get some shuteye."

"You stop right where you are, lieutenant." Hannibal gripped Face's arm above the elbow, arresting the younger man's movement. "You and I are going to have a little _chat_."

Half a pint of orange juice hit him squarely in the eyes, blinding him, and Hannibal's grip loosened for a second.

It was enough for Face, who followed up the orange juice with a right hook and wrenched free, leaving Hannibal with a handful of torn fabric.

It _wasn't_ enough, however, to stop the colonel from seizing his wrist as it passed him and yanking back hard, pulling Face around with such force he almost dislocated the lieutenant's shoulder.

Blinking juice out of his stinging eyes, blood seeping out of a split lip, Hannibal somehow managed to hold onto Face and glare at him at the same time.

"What the _hell_ is going on with you?" He'd never seen Face like this before. Even when they'd had their first – and only – real fight in the POW camp (or as much of a fight as two men can have with one nursing a broken arm and half a dozen cracked ribs) there had been a little core of sanity in the lieutenant's mind. He'd been wild, furious, terrified, but he'd always retained enough of himself to know what he was doing. This Face was completely out of control.

"There is. _Nothing_. _Going. On_." The words were forced through bared and gritted teeth.

"You can lie to Murdock and BA if you want to, Face, but don't you _dare _lie to me. I try and help and you tell me to butt out. I butt out and you accuse me of not caring." As Face pulled free and made to go past, Hannibal grabbed him again and ran him into the wall. "Well, I'm telling you now, I _don't_ care what your problem is, lieutenant! You are not leaving this apartment – you are not leaving this _room_ – until I get some answers! Now _talk_ to me, goddamnit! You just blew the whole mission! Thanks to you, we got Decker coming down on us tomorrow and we have to get outta here."

"And what about the girl, Hannibal? What about her? Are you just gonna give up?"

"If you hadn't gone in half-cocked, we'd still have a chance of saving her! Now Markham's calling Decker—"

"Which should send you right onto cloud nine."

"—and you have about two seconds to tell me why the _hell_ you went back into Markham's house! Twice!"

"Because of what you said." Face was glaring at him, hurt, furious, and at any other time Hannibal would have dropped the subject.

"What _I_ said? Face, I'm pretty sure that what I said ran along the lines of _do not go back into Markham's house under any circumstances_!" Moving closer, Hannibal added, "So would you mind explaining to me how _I_ could say that, but _you_ heard _hey Face, go break into this guy's home and snoop around_!"

"You were the one who said he'd probably taken this Chrissy Allen girl into some sick kind of prostitution ring! Snatch her, hide her somewhere and then rent her out to whoever wants a piece of the action!"

Hannibal gripped his arm. "You listen to me, kid. I know how you're feeling—"

Face's laugh bordered on the hysterical. "No you don't, Hannibal! You've no idea how I'm feeling!"

"If this girl _is_ in that kind of situation, lieutenant, then I agree we need to get her out of it as soon as possible, but your little Charge of the Light Brigade number made that a lot harder! Now – and I never thought I'd say this – but wherever that kid may be, Markham's calling Decker at seven am tomorrow and giving him our address, and so we're gonna have to leave her for a day or so."

"I _can't_!" Face started towards the door but Hannibal gripped what was left of the lieutenant's collar and spun the younger man around to face him.

"Give me _one_ good reason why not, lieutenant!"

Teeth bared, Face snarled at him, "Because it happened to _me_."

Hannibal's hand dropped to his side. There was no way he could have stopped it, although Face didn't seem inclined to make another break for freedom.

"What?" It was said softly, disbelievingly.

"I'm sorry, did I stutter? Do you want me to go over it again?"

Hannibal was quiet for a few seconds, then, when Face didn't seem inclined to say anything else, said, "Is that...when you talked about the _dark room_, is that..." His voice tailed off. There was no tactful way to ask the question and he couldn't bring himself to ask bluntly.

"Oh, what, Hannibal?" Face gave him a brittle smile. "Where I was _raped_? Is that what you wanted to say?"

Hannibal stared at him, but for once he couldn't find any words to answer.

"Yeah." Face answered his own question, biting the word off at the end. "All the time I was there, the only thing I could hear was that Brenda Lee song. Someone was playing it over and over and over again...just the same damn song. They used it to mask the cries."

"You..." Hannibal stared at him, the pieces tumbling into place. "_That's_ why you went nuts when you heard it on the radio."

It seemed crazy to deny it now he'd come this far. Face swallowed hard. "Yeah. That's why. I hadn't heard it since..." He broke off. "I was...it triggered..."

"Face..." Hannibal touched the lieutenant's shoulder, but Face whipped round and slammed his hand away with all the strength he could muster.

"_Get away from me_!"

"Alright. Alright." Hands raised, Hannibal took a few paces back. "We'll do it your way, Face. Just take it easy. I'm not gonna hurt you."

It seemed a strange thing to say, since he'd never cold-bloodedly hurt Face before or given him any reason to expect that he would, yet somehow he thought it was what the lieutenant needed to hear.

"Face, why didn't you mention it before?"

The lieutenant let out a noise that was halfway between a laugh and a sob. "Sure Hannibal! I mean, how would you have liked me to start? Maybe bring it up over a Thanksgiving dinner? Or I know, why not wait 'til Christmas? Let you guys get into the turkey and opening gifts, then just say, oh, by the way, guys, when I was five, some sadist grabbed me and dragged me into the middle of some sick porn ring? You know, just thought you should know?"

"All these years and you never said a word." At the same time, Hannibal wondered why he was so surprised about this. Like Face said, it was hardly the kind of anecdote you'd share at dinner.

"_I didn't know_! I'd forgotten, blacked it out or something! When I heard that song, it just...well, let's just say I started to remember, okay Hannibal?"

The colonel stared at him, mouth dry.

"Was this after your mom...uh..."

"What, Hannibal? After I came home from school and found she'd driven away in that dirty little camper van we both lived in?"

"Well...yeah." Having opened this can of worms, Hannibal found he had no idea how to close it again and so he realised he might as well ride it out.

"Yeah. It was." Face ran a trembling hand over his face, turning away as though Hannibal had suddenly become too bright to look at.

"Kid—"

"Hannibal, uh, look, I'm...I'm really tired, I just wanna get some sleep, okay?" It was said fast enough for Hannibal to recognise it for the excuse it was.

"In a minute, kid." Hannibal spoke quietly, letting Face know that although he wasn't in trouble, this little interview wasn't over just yet.

The lieutenant closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath. "Hannibal—"

"Face, I know it's hard—" although Hannibal was only half convinced that it was harder for Face to talk about this than it was for him to hear about it— "but you gotta see it through. C'mon kid. Finish what you started."

Face's eyes snapped open again and he stared at the colonel, disbelief warring with accusation in his gaze.

"What _I_ started?" He gave a short, bitter laugh and, as Hannibal started towards him, drew back, raising one hand. "No, Hannibal. _I_ didn't start this; you did. You never know when to leave well enough alone, do you?"

"Face—"

"_No_!" The lieutenant lunged and shoved Hannibal with enough force to send him sprawling. "You got your goddamn answers! You got what you wanted, now _back off and leave me alone_!"

He spun on his heel and half stumbled, half ran into the master bedroom, slamming the door behind him with enough force to rattle the windows, and this time the colonel let him go.

* * *

Hannibal lay on his back, his glowing cigar the only source of light in the dark room. He didn't usually smoke in bed, but this was different. He needed to think, and that was damn hard at the minute considering he was still reeling from Face's revelation.

_He didn't remember. He didn't remember any of it until that damn song came on the radio, and then it just flooded back._

What must it be like, to go from no memory of something one second to a clear recollection of that same thing the next?

_If I'd suddenly remembered something like that...after all those years...it would be like going through the whole thing again._

_Poor kid. No wonder he freaked out._

Hannibal was no longer surprised that Face had snapped; rather, he was astonished that the lieutenant had managed to hold it together as well as he had for as _long_ as he had.

_So what do I do now?_ He couldn't tell the others – that was something Face would never forgive, even if Hannibal had been inclined to gossip – but he was less sure that he could continue to act as though nothing had happened.

He kept turning things over and over in his mind, wondering what to do, how to proceed...above all, why it had taken him this long to figure it out even as his more rational side insisted that no, that wasn't fair, there was no way he could have known.

_Dumped by his mother, kidnapped into some sick operation and then somehow got from there to the orphanage_.

And that had been no picnic either. Face had opened up to Hannibal a little about the orphanage in the POW camp, and although it was nothing like some of the horror stories you read in the papers, it had been a mostly cold, bleak place to grow up in.

Hannibal sucked on his cigar, which was now so small the end was starting to burn his fingers, thinking about things; most of all, about Face.

_No wonder he doesn't like guys touching him_. Hannibal had never really thought much about that, since he'd known plenty of other men who felt the same way.

That cigar was really getting too hot to hold now...Hannibal ground out the half-inch butt that was left and folded his hands over his stomach, trying for what felt like the hundredth time to work out the best way to proceed.

While he was still puzzling it out, he fell asleep, and didn't wake up until his door was kicked open.

Mind full of MPs and Decker, Hannibal snatched up his gun and came within an inch of blowing Murdock's head off.

"Colonel! Face is gone!"

Hannibal stared at him, mouth suddenly dry. "What?"

"Packed all his things and high-tailed it away in the night. He even took his suits."

The colonel was on his feet in an instant, no longer even remotely tired.

"_What_? That can't be right."

"See for yourself."

Still wondering – hoping – that this was no more than a terrible dream, Hannibal followed Murdock through into the master bedroom.

It was empty. _Really_ empty. Murdock was right; Face had stripped it bare. The window was wide open, a pick sticking out of the lock, and Hannibal swore should've known that simply locking the window wouldn't be enough to stop the lieutenant. The apartment was on the first floor, but that was no problem to someone like Face.

_He threw his stuff out the window, climbed down after it and then...what? _The colonel glanced up and down the street, stopping when his gaze fell on a pay phone.

_That's it. He called a cab or rented a car or something._ Out of the two, Hannibal thought a cab was more likely; a rented car was too easy to trace. Whichever it was, the fact remained that Face could literally be anywhere.

"This was stuck to the bedroom door." Murdock held out a note and Hannibal took it, staring at the seven words printed there in Face's neat handwriting.

_Do you really need to ask why?_

For the very first time in his life, Hannibal was at a complete loss. He had no idea how to proceed, no clue what to say or do.

Murdock, on the other hand, was not so perplexed. "Colonel, what'd you say to him last night?"

Hannibal shook his head slowly. "I dunno."

Face hadn't snapped like this in the POW camp in 'Nam, where he and Hannibal had first met. The lieutenant had been bruised goods, as Murdock had put it, scared and defensive, constantly waiting for people – including Hannibal – to screw him over and then kick him while he was down, just like everyone else in his life. It had taken months, but Hannibal had finally managed to persuade Face to (occasionally) open up to him.

_So how was this any different_? Granted it was a darker secret than any of the others Face had confided to him, but still...

"You know he's had something on his mind." That was the understatement of the _century_, in Hannibal's opinion, but he kept going regardless. "I just tried to persuade him to talk to me."

"That true, colonel?" Murdock stared hard at Hannibal's busted nose and swollen lip. "You really try and persuade him? Or did you just order him to tell you and beat the answer outta him when he said no?"

"_What_?" Hannibal stared at the pilot, genuinely appalled. "Murdock, you know I'm not that kinda guy!"

"All I _know_, colonel, is that somethin' went down between you an' the Faceman, and whatever you said or did was so bad it made him feel that he couldn't stand to be around us anymore! All I _know_ is that you were probably the one person he thought he could trust to give him a little sympathy, and instead all you done is drugged him, yelled at him and kicked the crap outta him!"

Shock started to give way to anger and Hannibal returned the pilot's glare with his own.

"I am _not_ going to be made the bad guy in this, Murdock! I can't sympathise with the problems of someone who refuses to tell me what they are! Now maybe I pushed a little too hard—"

Murdock snorted. "Uh huh. Yeah, that's for damn sure."

"—but I did _not_ try and force the answers out of him! I just..." Hannibal's voice tailed off as his treacherous memory threw up an image of himself grabbing Face and slinging him against the wall.

_"I don't care what your problem is, lieutenant! You are not leaving this apartment until I get some answers! Now talk to me, goddamnit!"_

He hadn't rammed the lieutenant into the wall to hurt him; he'd done it because it seemed the most effective way to stop him escaping again, but he wasn't sure that Face – upset as he'd been – would have seen it that way.

Murdock stood there, watching Hannibal's face grow steadily whiter.

"Oh my god." It was a bare whisper.

"What'd you do, colonel?" There was no trace of eccentricity in Murdock's voice now; it was hard, unforgiving.

"Nothing. It doesn't matter."

Murdock darted past Hannibal and stood in the doorway, arms folded. "I see. So it's okay for _you_ to be ashamed, just nobody else."

Hannibal shook his head. "We don't have time for this, Murdock. Decker's going to be here any minute, we have to get going!"

Murdock shook his head. "No. No, you and BA gotta get goin'. I'm gonna stay here. Maybe Face'll come back in a day or so. An' face it, Hannibal, I'm the only one who don't gotta duck outta sight every time he hears a siren—"

"No, you just got every psychiatrist from the VA on your tail."

Murdock gave Hannibal a cold look. "Point one, they're only gonna find me if I'm alone an' do somethin' to stand out in a crowd. Point two, if they _do_ somehow get holda me, it's gonna be a lot easier for me to bust outta the VA than it is for _you_ to bust outta a military fort. And point three, I don't think the Faceman'd wanna be found by you anyway."

Turning, he strode out, slamming the door behind him.

A sudden burst of noise jerked Hannibal's attention around to the radio alarm clock on the nightstand. Face must have set it before he left, which meant it had been an impulsive move rather than a planned one. That was a hopeful sign; chances were good the lieutenant would be back once he'd calmed down. Maybe having Murdock wait around here for a few days wasn't such a bad idea after all.

Robin Gibb's cheerful voice warbled over the radio as Hannibal stood there, thinking.

_August, October_

_Mid-April, November, May_

_Beckoning hands made you fly_

_I cry, it's curtains today_

He turned it off savagely.

* * *

**Okay, I had planned for this to be a lot longer, but I figured Hannibal was only likely to put up with Face's obstinacy for so long ;) So that's the end of this story, but not the story arc.**

**Next up: **_**Since You Been Gone**_** sees the question of Face's past (and disappearance) answered in full, along with the return of everyone's favourite colonel (and no, I don't just mean Hannibal ;))**

**Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed this and I hope to see you for the sequel!**


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